


Still Human

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - The Last of Us, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Established Relationship - Daisuga, Fluff, Graphic Description, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Infection, Lime, M/M, Major Character Injury, NO KNOWLEDGE OF THE LAST OF US IS REQUIRED TO READ, Pining, Romance, Slow Burn - kagehina
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:22:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 103,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24362755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: 60% of the population: wiped out. Half a century later, and infection still tarnishes the world into an overgrown wasteland, to which its peaceful roots have long been forsaken.In the midst of a violent political war, mankind faces constant evil within its own nature: the rabid flesh-hungry infected. People have two days at most after being bitten, until Sugawara Koushi never turns from his bite— because he’s immune.And his immunity could be the very key to manufacturing a vaccine.[Apocalyptic AU - The Last of Us]
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 50
Kudos: 80





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This work would not be the best it can be without my beta <3
> 
> Optional links:  
> [The Cordyceps Virus](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z4nfEq8GQzo)  
> [Still Human Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1sUnoofizRJlJMev7DcIm6?si=DAFbced7T9eyxYSXHhy2Og)
> 
> The playlist does not necessarily tell how the story is going to unfold, but much rather captures the mood and ambiance of the story for those who do not know The Last of Us and its tone of storytelling.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Daichi is not sure what he wants. He is not sure why he is refusing to do what Suga wants him to do. He knows that it's the best way for him to go. He knows that._
> 
> _So why is he trying to believe otherwise?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the long ass prologue. It covers a lot of exposition so that is why. The following chapters are NOT going to be this long!  
> Otherwise, please enjoy :]

**[Early Spring, Year 54; Post-Apocalpyse]**

The night is stark black with a chill swimming in the air. Nothing but silence and soldiers patrol the streets past the 21st hour due to quarantine's curfew. Anything or anyone otherwise is subject to severe prosecution by the law and possibly even worse. So nobody is particularly dumb enough to be out on the blatant sidewalk past curfew.

 _Almost_ nobody.

"It's cold outside." Suga chatters out with a fog of air pooling from his warm breath.

"Then go get a jacket," Daichi says dismissively without sparing an attentive look.

"Don't you think it's too late for that?" Suga says as he tightens his thin flannel around himself. "You said we're almost at the end of the zone."

"Uh-huh. And?" Daichi's voice is flat like a drone. Focus never fails to drag Daichi's attention away like a magnet, and trying not to get caught outside past curfew is more than a plausible reason for focus to be on the very forefront of Daichi's mind.

"Nevermind," Suga mumbles as he bites his bottom lip to suppress another complaint. A shiver courses through his spine in an unpleasant rush when he attempts to rub a frigid hand down his arm.

How Daichi is faring the cold so well is beyond Suga, with the former sporting only a black henley shirt and faded dark wash jeans. The shirt is a touch loose but pulled tight in the back to exhibit the depths and curves of Daichi's muscular figure. Even malnutrition has no feat against the male's natural build. He was just blessed with the genetic goldmine of metabolism.

The apparent invincibility Daichi possesses against the cold should be a crime against nature. The guy walks around as if he is a human radiator while Suga shudders at the slightest breeze. It does not help that he is also pale as a ghost.

Sharp, numb pain starts to bloom on Suga's bottom lip from his pressing teeth, so he huddles close to Daichi's backpack in an attempt to gather warmth. Instincts prompts Daichi to reach back and seize Suga's frigid arm in a swift catch, and the latter sucks in a breath of surprise.

"Stay close, we're almost at the end of the zone." Daichi's voice is low in a petered wave when his eyes search through the impenetrable dark. They slip into a lightless alleyway upon nearing a post of vigilant soldiers.

 _This is stupid_. Suga thinks to himself, but he dares not to speak. It would make him a hypocrite since just the week before, he was absolutely enthralled by the idea of savoring a bite of freedom outside quarantine. But such ideas are only achievable by sneaking out of their military school and consequently, the quarantine itself.

The adventure was more appealing when it was a mere light-hearted scheme bridged by a passing joke while he and Daichi were dining in the mess hall. But the scheme quickly upended into reality, and the swarthy dark around them has Suga's reflexive remorse retreating within his stone walls of uncertainty. The dreadful commitment to the plan makes itself a presence through Daichi's insistent hold on his arm to remind Suga of his stupidly passive nature that got him where he is now.

Their watchful walk turns into a dash through shadow-doused alleys without a flashlight lighting their path in order to stay ambiguous in the dark. Suspicion piques at Suga's interest when he notices how swift and knowing Daichi's movements are as if he is familiar with the surroundings.

Curiosity prompts Suga to speak. "Daichi-" His voice is barely a full whisper when the digits at his arm tighten to give a silent command to stay quiet.

Suga abides by the wordless gesture and allows Daichi to lead him around the corralling block of the city. Aside from Suga's preference to not be dragged down the street like a ragdoll, he has no qualms about Daichi's grip on his arm. Though he silently wishes that it is his hand that Daichi is holding instead.

The end of the zone is roped off by vivid red tape when they reach it. Tanks scour the outskirts beyond the boundary like an impassable fortress, and a pack of mean-faced soldiers stand guard with their eyes periscoping through the moonlit dark.

A lurid glare of the moon casts a shadow beside the wall of an alleyway ahead, and Daichi hauls Suga into this obscure shade to cloak themselves from the moonlight's eye.

Patrolling soldiers carry guns that look like it could kill without the pull of its trigger. Their uniforms are puffed in a leathery grey look with dark speckled patterns on top. A bulletproof vest shields their chest like armor and a riot helmet is fixed over their heads. Boots clunk on unlevelled concrete with each sound demanding in both authority and power. Their backs are brought to a tall vigilant stance of pride and honor because they know they have it hanging over their heads like crowns.

The Federal Disaster Response Agency (FEDRA) and military have an indiscriminate ruthlessness about them. Rather than bringing comfort and security to civilians inside the quarantine, they instead bring muted terror. One slip-up on the streets and they will justify an excuse to beat someone on the solemn grey concrete before pocketing their ration cards as a reward. Or if all luck is rusted out for the day, the civilian could end up a corpse on the gravel road with their last memory being of a bullet rocketing into their skull.

Strict martial law within government-run quarantines is a hothouse for dismal oppression. Curfews exist to sweep the streets empty by the 21st hour, to which Daichi and Suga are _not_ obeying for the sake of pulling out on an adventure. Being out past said time is a blatant ask for federal charges.

With backs against a brick wall, they observe their silent fate wave elusively around their faces. Suga does not know why they are not turning back when there is no way they could get past those guards without a prosecution waiting to noose around their necks.

"I know a way around." Daichi's voice is adjacent to Suga's ear with the wind of his breath sweeping down Suga's neck. His voice is nearly inaudible, only spoken for Suga to hear as a shudder twitches up his shoulders.

Daichi's hand reaches up beside Suga's head to point past the soldiers and assembly of tanks. Hazel-eyes pretend to follow and understand what Daichi is pointing at. All Suga sees from the ambiguous points of Daichi's finger is the crumpled hell fallen city outside quarantine, and not anything specific that Daichi is trying to communicate.

"That building..." Daichi is talking so deathly quiet that even his breathing is stilted with a shake. "Has a basement floor... that we can go through... and it leads to a shopping plaza outside... the zone."

"How do you know this?" A sharp distinct hush creases in Suga's whisper. He has never been the most skillful at low tones.

Daichi is all aware of this and is swift to clamp a hand over Suga's mouth to trap his words in.

A sound of surprise is caught from ripping out Suga's throat when his eyes widen at the sudden contact. Daichi's hands are warm like a pleasant scarf, and his penetrating brown eyes can be seen through the murk of the dark like glowing candles hiding behind thick curtains. He presses a finger to his own lips to signal the obvious.

The apples of Suga's cheeks start growing warm, and it is not just the warmth of Daichi's hand that is guilty of inducing such a blush. Understanding conveys through Suga's nod, and this time Daichi lets go completely upon his trust that Suga will trail behind with agility.

Stealth is an excellent facet of Suga's. His slim form allows for noiseless steps across any surface of any density. One may wonder if he has wings since it seems as if he is able to fly from place to place like a stalking crow. With lips sealed shut and feet moving weightlessly, Suga can be as quiet as one's deepest thoughts may be. His senses are sharp in both vision and hearing with distance being the most opportunistic for his skills to shine like polish.

Distance may be Suga's greatest strength as a sharpshooter, but melee combat does a whole other charm. That is if it even has any. Being up close and personal with danger is not Suga's strongest card. Catching him on hand can easily turn his stalking crow demeanor into a clipped one.

If Suga were to be one side of a coin, the other would be Daichi. Not nearly as skilled at sharpshooting as Suga, but the guy has broad shoulders that are suited to a T for hand-to-hand combat and arduous wrestles. Shotguns, rifles, and even the knuckles of his fists are his most reliable skillsets when faced with danger.

The pair fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. Able to do something the other cannot.

The sky grows darker in opposition to Daichi and Suga's belief that the night could not get any gloomier. Their eyes strain ahead to peer through the dark like visionless bats. After a few stumbling moments, Suga is able to get ahead of Daichi as his keen eyes are outdoing the latter.

A collision from Daichi is inevitable, and it sends an amused giggle through Suga when Daichi tenses up for a fight once it happens. But shoulders soon relax when he realizes it is just his dear friend laughing at his expense.

"Not so fast and mighty in the dark, are you?" Suga drives a teasing finger at Daichi's chest who in turn gives a blind swat at Suga's hand.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, stupid," Daichi mumbles embarrassingly. But Suga can see the faint outline of a grin slipping up Daichi's lips.

The solemn purpose to quickly make their way out of the alley drops silence back into the pair almost instantaneously. Treading through more guarded areas, Suga remains within arms reach of Daichi to avoid a spontaneous separation. After stalking across another block or so, they reach sight of the building that Daichi had mentioned earlier.

Another second is not spared when Daichi sharply hisses behind him without any sort of forewarning. "Let's go! Hurry!"

He goes bolting onto the road where the moonlight gives plain sight.

" _Are you fucking crazy, Daichi!?"_ Suga hisses back in a hushed tone. His eyes do a frantic scan around the road before taking off on a sprint in Daichi's direction. Staying behind Daichi on a run for too long can lead to him possibly leaving Suga behind without even realizing it. The guy is just too damn fast.

Reaching the side of the building, Daichi bends down to push against the glass window that leads straight into the basement floor. Suga is prepared to help-- oh who is he kidding, Daichi already has it opened and he slips inside in one swift motion as if his entire life has led up to that moment.

"Hurry! Get in!" Daichi urges from inside.

Suga's heart is beating at what feels like two hundred beats per minute from his cranium straight down to his asshole. Panicked bolts of stinging adrenaline pierce through his veins and mar his sense of composure and grace. Rushed footing and a bent back knock all sense of articulate control from Suga's body till it feels like jello, and he attempts at what is supposed to be akin to a graceful slide in.

But his ankle makes a messy shift and he tumbles down with the drop being abruptly halted, much to the male's unpleasant surprise. The collision sends a rippled echo through the vacant hall after Suga has fallen on top of a locker that sits just below the window.

"Shit..." Suga seldom curses, but he is feeling pretty generous with it today. The full weight of the crash elicits a pained groan from him as his hand stays clutched at his bruised side.

Daichi's hand reaches up from below. A sheepish expression is laid on his face when he watches Suga writhe achingly in moderate pain. He has never heard Suga utter so many vulgar words in a singular breath. Not even during drills or training.

"Ah, sorry..." Daichi chuckles wryly. "I forgot to tell you."

"Yeah, forgot to tell me whether it was a straight drop down or a damn locker-to-the-ribs." Suga tenses his jaw with seething annoyance, and a sharp hiss rings through his teeth when he lifts himself up. "And what was that back there? Taking off like a dog spotting a bone!"

Daichi's expectant hand waits idly in the air to be taken upon, but Suga is too busy trying to curse him with every name under the sun in fleeting contempt. Impatience causes Daichi to seize the other's hand to pull him down from the locker. Suga makes a sound of surprise before landing on his feet beside Daichi with a sour look pinching his features.

"See? _Now_ I've got you." Daichi holds a slack grin. His voice is no longer hushed in the unmilitarized building.

"Appreciated, but not forgiven." Suga snatches his hand back as he shoots a look of pointed dismay at the other male. But Daichi is still affirming that same look.

"Alright, alright. I'll make it up to you soon though." Daichi starts down the dark hall with his flashlight already retrieved from his backpack. "We're almost out of the zone."

Suga casts out his own flashlight and the pair click them on simultaneously. The twin lights are blinding with an eye-searing brightness that gets them both blinking away the stars speckling their vision.

"Now, can I ask how you know the way out of the quarantine zone?" Suga asks, his tone clearly laced with suspicion. "We've never been authorized to be this far out for drills. So I hope you realize we could be breathing in spores like dinner."

Dark and damp areas such as the underground and basements are a paradise for Cordyceps fungal spores to live and grow. The spores cloud the air in dense yellow dust, like algae. Except it is in the air and not in the water. One too many whiffs of it are enough to make someone turn. Even without the bite of an infected.

If travel is to be made across town, basements are usually not the best way to get it done, and Suga is clearly trying to communicate this to Daichi.

"I did skim through for spores, okay? I'm not an unprepared dumbass. And it shouldn't be a problem as long as you have brought your gas mask." Suga gives an affirmed nod when Daichi shoots him a clarifying look.

"I usually sneak some peeks around the west end of town after drills," Daichi confesses. He could already feel the fervid disappointment fuming from the other. "And I found this building after we became enthused with our little plan last week. It looks to be a frequent rendezvous point cause it's pretty clear of spores."

"Then let's hope we don't run into anyone." A strained sort of pessimism mumbles under Suga's breath.

"Don't think we will. It looked pretty quiet this past week." Daichi's eyes connect with Suga's, whose brows are refusing to unfurl at Daichi's recent expense. "That's why I've been skipping out on the extra firearms."

"So you've been dancing with suicide this past week." Suga's lips are pinched at the statement when his gaze sweeps over wherever his flashlight lands on the wall. "You're too ardent with danger."

"But," Daichi turns around and gestures at himself with an emphasizing look. "Guess who's dead? Not me. And the prosecution hasn't set me up for a surprise booty call."

That almost makes Suga chortle. But instead, he deadpans with a twitching grin showing his resistance from laughing. "I say it was a stroke of luck."

"Stroke of luck? I feel like you're insulting me." Daichi clicks his tongue with a half-hearted purse of his lips. Both he and Suga know that sneaking is not really Daichi's forte, despite him doing it so often. His form and presence are so distinct that he would most likely be the first to fall dead in a battle against the Fireflies.

The abandoned building is cavernous, with shelves stripped bare and tables overturned in disarray. Hideous wallpaper, hideous even without the rot, peel into an acrid smell that is relentless wherever Suga turns. Unkempt floors crunch with glass and laminate flooring that echoes abandonment down the hall Daichi and Suga start crossing.

"What days did you come to find this place?" Suga's nagging curiosity picks their schedules apart, trying to dissect the slots of free time where Daichi could have gone out undetected on his own. Because hell, he was surely gone and about without arousing suspicion back in school. Evidently so since Suga was not even aware of Daichi's expeditions around the far side of the town.

"Usually after morning drills. There's so many of us that they didn't even realize I slipped away." A flitted chuckle huffs out Daichi's lips with pride. Their school is guarded with an iron fist, but there are days where the iron can rust.

"Speaking of which, we have to make it back before dawn." Suga slips in a boundary that Daichi has to regard. "If they see us missing at morning drills, they'll cook us in the boiler room the moment they get their hands on us."

The imagery of that shouldn't have been so vivid to Daichi. "It's fearless of you to paint the captain and the military so antagonistically."

"They don't need my generous opinion in order to seem antagonistic." Suga's retort comes out more political than he prefers, but he knows it is the pointed truth. Anyone living under the government's military will affirm the statement, including the soldiers despite their aggressive reinforcement. Even the biggest of patriots would never find comfort in them. That is if there are any that actually exist.

Daichi's lack of protest is another firm agreement. "You think they'd serve us for dinner?" He cracks a jestful smile.

"Selling us as rations for the coming months sounds more practical," Suga replies with a satirical banter floating in his voice.

It's all an exaggeration, and they both know it. But such thoughts have been dying to be said since they are to never be uttered when they are out and about in quarantine. Given that if the word travels to the wrong ear, they will be cast with serious consequences.

"Damn, we must really hate that place," Daichi speaks as if he is surprised at the non-convoluted revelation.

"Hate doesn't even begin to _describe_ how I feel." Suga murmurs contemptuously.

"I can tell you don't like it there. It's all over your face." Daichi says.

"That's startling." Suga bends a brow. "Then they can probably tell just as well as you can."

"You're good at what you do, so they probably don't think much of it," Daichi reassures.

"Sometimes I wish they would so I'd get kicked out." Suga sounds like he is kidding, but he is not. "Lack of patriotism. Is that a valid reason to get kicked?"

"What would be next for you then, after you're kicked out? Starving on the streets with little to no rations at all?" Daichi's role as the devil's advocate is a total buzzkill to Suga's sarcastic (sometimes not sarcastic) quips.

"No need to sound like you're convincing me out of seriously doing it," Suga says dryly with his wits now deflated. "I'm tethered there as if it's my destiny. No matter what I do, they make more excuses for me." Suga's face sours when unwanted memories start cascading down his thoughts. "Captain's orders. It's the only thing he asked before getting a bullet to the throat by a Firefly."

Suga is thinking out loud at this point because Daichi knows the story like it is his own. The dying wish of Suga's father, a superbly high honored captain of a FEDRA army, was for the military to maintain a death grip on Suga after deciding his fate as a soldier the moment he was old enough for it.

Despite Suga's soft temperament opposing that of a soldier, he was given no say like a drafted civilian. Even though he wasn't drafted. It was a sheer decision made by his father who wore an armor around the tender spots of his heart. He was unable to be moved by anything, and that included Suga's protests.

The logical assumption would be that with his father long dead, Suga would be freed from the tyrannic control the old man had over his very existence. But the control was merely passed on to his comrades like a crown, leaving Suga to almost always be specially monitored during training as if he is prey within a circle of hawks. Even with his father dead and out of this world, he still has control over Suga's mortal domain like a puppeteer from the heavens.

Or Hell. Suga would not mind if he is in Hell.

The thing Suga feels the most robbed of is that his father's actions went without a given reason. He was left to think one up himself, and the most plausible intention Suga can think up is that it was to harden his heart for survival. To build an iron-plated boy who was born with a mellowing soft heart. But it still does not dismiss why his superiors go batshit when Suga is not sharp with where he needs to be at a given time.

A mirthless laugh ripples through Suga's benign lips. "I'm so screwed if we don't make it back to the morning drills."

Being out past curfew has always been unthinkable to Suga after he briefly went AWOL a few years back. Nothing could have been more spectacularly unnecessary and ugly. It was a type of ugly that could only unfurl for the captain's son. He can only cringe at the memory of soldiers tearing the place down thick and thin just to find him. Dead or alive. It was discouraging to see how loyal they are to his father's last wish.

The last wish that is still obscure in regards to having a candid reason.

A comforting nudge at Suga's side directs his gaze up at Daichi. "No need for the glum look. I'll make sure we get back before dawn." A tender and reassuring smile crests at Daichi's lips. He has always been believable with his smiles as if failure is no such thing.

Strangely, it produces an unwarranted apology out of Suga.

"Hey, don't apologize." The brunette male's voice is gentle like a warm dwindling flame. No one can be as genuinely sweet (without cloying) as Sawamura Daichi. "I don't mean to mitigate your situation as any less severe by saying that I know what you mean. You know, on feeling trapped in the military."

It was Daichi's rusted luck with the civilian service system that got him drafted into military school.

"I hate this." Suga does not need to specify because Daichi just knows.

"Everyone harbors _some_ thing against the military. Unless they're the FEDRA themselves. They're always standing under hails of shit being thrown at them." Daichi grumbles.

Suga pans his flashlight up a greyed wall and spotlights a graffiti of the Fireflies symbol. The words ' _Look for the light'_ is scrawled above the red-painted symbol that is slowly wearing with age.

"No one gets as much shit as the Fireflies do though..." Suga mumbles.

One thing outside quarantine walls that the government possibly hates more than the rabid infected, is the Fireflies. The revolutionary militia group opposes the military head-on with a team of fighters and doctors to thwart the government's efforts in running a police state society. Hopes to craft a vaccine to the zombie-like disease still live within that group as they continually search for it. Even after over half a century of turning up unsuccessful.

They at least get brownie points for still searching for a cure. The government has already abandoned that possibility decades back.

Daichi gives an askance glance up at the words when he stops to spare a look at the graffiti. "I wonder if they've _found the light_ yet?" His tone is something close to mockery when he chuckles afterward.

"Pft. We're still in this world, aren't we?" Suga's smile is weak. He's wistful for something other than, but perhaps that is Suga's own foolishness thinking. Humanity has been looking for the light longer than Daichi and Suga have been alive. Half a century, and still no light has been found. "What do _you_ think of the Fireflies?"

"Well, we're trained to kill them," Daichi says flatly, not looking away from the graffiti that is still spotlighted by Suga's flashlight. "So probably not in the most favorable way."

"We still have the right to an opinion, don't we?"

"I think it'd be easier to kill someone when you don't like them." Daichi starts pulling himself in the other direction. "Don't you think?"

That in itself is enough to answer Suga's question.

"How about you?" Daichi asks. "What do _you_ think of the Fireflies?"

That is an answer Suga is not quite great at articulating. "My mom was a Firefly." His voice is wry with an awkward chuckle. His mother's life is unbeknownst to him other than that she is a dead Firefly who had a child with a FEDRA soldier.

The circumstance is still very convoluted whenever Suga catches himself thinking too hard about his parents. So he would rather leave it to not be dwelled upon.

"Does that mean you like them?" Daichi is aware of the anonymity of Suga's mother.

"Mixed feelings." Suga shrugs. It would be nice to live outside of oppression and in camps instead like the Fireflies do, but options are not available for Suga. They never were.

"Is it enough to get you to spare a Firefly's life?"

"Firefly or not, I'd probably consider it." Suga never realizes how honest his feelings are until he says them so easily to Daichi. "I don't know if I'd be able to kill _any_ one that's still human."

No judgment passes on Daichi's features at Suga's honesty. If anything, Daichi appreciates the transparency more than anything, which makes him smile instead.

Daichi shines his flashlight up at the ceiling-- or the lack of thereof. The floor above caves in from splintering rots of wood settling at the edges like stray handfuls of hair. But with the pile of debris and nameless sturdy junk under the opening, a climb up is possible.

The brunette male casts a glance over his shoulder at Suga when he approaches the debris. There is a playful glint taunting in those soft brown eyes. "Do you need any help?" His voice draws out a condescending tone that hits the bullseye to Suga's peeved nerve.

"Pft. Shut up." The glare in Suga's eye is piercing when he pushes Daichi aside. Precariously, he works his feet up on whatever flat surface he can pedal onto. He reaches the top noiselessly and is already on the first floor by the time Daichi reaches the top of the dresser with messy grace.

Suga cups a hand over his nose to stifle a giggle.

A firm grip on Suga's shoulder turns him around to face Daichi once he is done with his climb. "Care to enlighten me on what's so funny?" A knowing look emanates off his feigned innocent smile.

"Rather not." Suga slaps Daichi's hand away coldly, much to the latter's feigned offense plastering on his face with an agape mouth. "I think it speaks for itself."

The charming grin on Suga's face glows under the bright bloom of Daichi's flashlight. Nothing but innocence paints itself a picture on Suga's features whenever he smiles. Something so pure can easily draw an engrossed stare out of Daichi.

Therefore it comes as a surprise when Daichi backs down on the banter with a mere smirk before continuing down the dark hall. Suga had expected at least _some_ sort of riposte.

They start climbing stairs, dressers, and piles of debris. Mundane visuals stretch everywhere with the sight of grits and decaying garbage littering across the ground with no end. Views inhabit grey skies and ghosted streets with darkened dust groundlessly living in the air like poisonous snow. The raw reality of their bitter world also elicits twisted beauty when innocent things like spring blossoms come to compare.

Spring is when the grass starts sprouting out the cracks in the roads, and buds of flowers begin burrowing through fallen debris to bathe in that perfect spot of sunlight in the day. They stay persistent even through blood splatter and Cordyceps spores invading the air, and the stems of yellow dandelions dance against the repetitiously mundane world as if its beauty is easy to flaunt.

This is the only type of beauty that Daichi and Suga know. An ironic one.

"Hey! Suga!" Daichi's voice echoes through the tunneling hallway.

"Coming!" Suga shouts from meters back. His curiosity had been tethered in by a tattered WANTED poster of a young Firefly on the counter. Younger than him by the looks of it.

"Suga!"

"I hear you, I hear you!" Suga finally pedals his feet into a light jog to catch up to Daichi, who is impatiently waiting for him at the foot of the stairs. "Sheesh, if you think I'll die so noiselessly, think otherwise cause I'll be screaming bloody loud if that ever happens."

"Don't joke about that." Daichi pulls Suga towards him by the wrist to urge him up the stairs. "Walk in front of me."

"Why? So I'd get attacked first?" Suga muses, striding up the stairs confidently despite his words.

"That's just cheap and cruel, isn't it?" Daichi emits a chuckle. "The chances of you surviving are more hopeful when you're in front of me instead of trailing behind like an idiot."

"You say that until I get ambushed by a clicker once I reach the top of these stairs." Suga huffs. He targets his glare at Daichi's carefree expression. "You take me as a sissy or something?"

"Just shush and keep walking."

There is no light visible when Suga reaches the top of the stairs to the rooftop. All of it is behind him in the quarantine while he and Daichi revel at the view of the city that is broken into a muddle of untouched debris.

The stars over their heads were freckling down a black stretch of the sky. There were fades of navy at the horizon where stars glinted faintly like diamond-coated dust. It looks divine over the nature-grown collapse of the grimly-toned city. The wind sweeps up a gasp from Suga as an agape smile captures his lips.

A happy gleam glosses over Suga's eyes like polished porcelain. Daichi finds treasure in the content look on Suga's face and captures the image in his head to enlist it as one of the best views to ever witness. A smile draws up his own lips as the same happy gleam rounds Daichi's eyes when he lifts his gaze at the heavens.

It is hard to catch the deep of the night within the citadel walls of the quarantine. Especially when a curfew of 21:00 urges everyone indoors.

"I didn't know the night time could look like this." Suga hums with a particular excitement buzzing through his eyes when he looks over at Daichi. "I've only seen views like this in magazines."

"We have windows, ya know," Daichi mentions amusingly.

"Not everyone has a sky view, unlike some." The glare Suga sends Daichi's way holds him guilty of that statement.

"I've _said_ you can request to be my roommate," Daichi says with a swaying tone as if it is about the hundredth time he has mentioned it. "I don't have one and you don't like yours, so the strings are just waiting to get attached."

A rigid look crosses Suga's face while he cracks his knuckles in a nervous manner. He is not sure how he is going to parry this inquiry for the hundredth time.

"Well, it'd be sort of rude to just switch on him..." Suga's abashed tone is in hopes to hide away from the topic. His reactions unfold the same way every time Daichi has suggested they room together, and it always turns painfully awkward on both ends. Painfully obvious too.

 _Strings waiting to get attached_ sounds too attuned to unrequited love. It springs echoes into Suga's mind like a relentless bullet ricocheting between the walls of his skull. It would be nice if Daichi does return the feelings Suga has for him, but it is also the exact opposite of what he wants. Call it fear, because it is within good reason (at least Suga hopes so).

Strings too closely attached are the last thing anyone needs in an unpromising world, especially an apocalyptic one. The two only have a few months before they are to be shipped off (most likely) to separate parts of Japan as soldiers, patrolling the same as the ones they just evaded. They are both highly aware that they will never have a say in anything that is commanded to them. Considering otherwise will just be pure naivete on their ends.

So if they do end up attaching strings, wouldn't it be all in vain?

"It wouldn't matter though, would it?" Daichi tries to smile through the unwieldy tension stretching between them. "We only have a few months. So we can spend all the time we can before we're done back there."

 _But then it'll make me wish I'd done it sooner_.

"That's why we're here though, right?" Suga beams a wide smile with his eyes gesturing around at the sky. "To spend that time together before we're... promoted."

Promotion shouldn't feel as dreadful as it does, and Suga has managed to dodge the topic once again.

"Yeah." Daichi attempts a solemn but sweet smile. But he can feel the defeated sigh catching in his throat before it merely comes out as a feigned content hum.

The other male returns a smile of his own, but fuller with a cheery glint lining his perfectly straight teeth despite living in such crude conditions.

"So," Suga sighs out. A touch of poignancy is behind that pearly smile. "Are we going to keep exploring or are we going to get all tangled up in our sentiments?"

Bare honesty has Daichi knowing that he does not want to keep avoiding his sentiments with Suga. But the forefront of his mind is aware that it is best to just move past it for now.

Daichi hides his true thoughts behind the daring grin splaying on his face. "We can start by jumping rooftops to that abandoned plaza." His mischief burning eyes look off to the side ahead of them.

A streak of moonlight lines Suga's vision as he follows where Daichi's gaze is aimed. In the not-so-far distance, there is the rooftop entrance to the abandoned plaza that dips down into depths of the dark.

"I'll race you there." Surprisingly, it is Suga who says those words.

A flurry of ashen-silver hair goes sprinting off to leave Daichi with nothing but growing defeat the further Suga runs.

"Wow, okay, Mr. _'We Have To Be Back Before Dawn',"_ Daichi calls out from behind once he starts running with a cocky smile.

Suga's infectious laughter is like a humble caress in the tranquil night, abruptly pausing when he pounces across from one building to another as if he is merely jumping rope. The distance is not dangerous and shouldn't be at all since the two have proper training.

"We'll still make it if we're fast enough!" Suga cries out against particularly nothing in the sky as the echoes of his voice get swept up in the dark.

Daichi joins with an admiring laugh and hollers at every jump he makes to encourage Suga to pick up the pace if he wants to stay ahead. Their spirits are clinging onto the tops of their shoulders like wings, not within the cage of their ribs with repression. Freedom has never tasted so fervent as it does now.

As Suga is about to launch off to the plaza building, Daichi finally overtakes him with a dash. The latter sticks a perfect landing on the other side with Suga following right after with a perfect landing of his own. But Suga's feet make little to no noise with only the small knocks of his shoes clicking against the solid ground. Daichi is never able to fully digest the sheer skill of Suga's aerial mobility as if it is rocket science.

"Geez, you might as well have wings," Daichi says through exhausted pants.

Suga laughs through his own breathless pants with the airy gasp of his voice sounding softly angelic. He swings his arms back and forth beside him before pulling up the sleeves of his flannel to relieve the heat building at his skin there.

"You might as well too, gaining up on me so fast." Suga groans with the deep-rooted defeat that has become his only acclaim whenever he competes with Daichi on pure athleticism. "I even had a head start too!"

"That was a dirty move on your part." Daichi's targets a chortling grin Suga's way.

"Not like it mattered." Suga gestures back at the jump they just made. "Clearly. You still won." His gaze drags down to Daichi's feet. "Do your feet even touch the ground at all? Or do you just fly?"

"Could say the same for you." Daichi snorts with his flashlight clicking on under his clutch. "Alright, ready to head in?"

Suga follows Daichi's actions by clicking on his own flashlight. It immediately brings the color back into Daichi's tanned skin that resembles the hue of a golden stone of some sort.

"Are there any infected?" Suga asks as if Daichi has the magical ability to give an answer to his question.

"Probably not. The building's close by quarantine so the soldiers probably cleared the area out long ago." Despite saying reassuring words, Daichi bends over his backpack with a hand shuffling through the items inside. His hand is enclosed around a silver Glock when it reappears from the depths of his backpack.

"How the hell did you get that?" Suga's voice is accusatory when he eyes down a complacently smirking Daichi. Firearms are restricted from trainees unless they are having firearms practice.

"I snuck one for myself while they were doing inventory." Mischief is spelled out in Daichi's stare with no hint of shame behind those melty brown eyes. He loads the magazine of the gun, and it clicks with one slam of his palm.

"If you weren't training to be a soldier, you'd be a bandit out in the wild with all this sneaking you do." Suga takes his switchblade out from his pocket to arm himself. His fingers fiddle around the stiletto handle when he watches Daichi offer the gun his way.

"You can use it."

"Why?" Suga's brows bend inward.

"What do you mean why? You're one of the best shooters in our year." Daichi persists the Glock in Suga's direction, but the latter tips it aside with the handle of his switchblade.

"It's okay, it can be your toy to play with."

"It's not a damn toy, Suga, just take it." Daichi's persistence is enough to get Suga to reluctantly pocket his switchblade and encase the Glock in his hand. It fits perfectly into his palm as his fingers itch around at the perfect grip.

"Seriously, how do you even manage to sneak these things out?" Suga asks as he watches Daichi pull out a mere tactical blade. "Are you serious? Here, take the Glock back--"

"No, no, I'm better this way." Daichi stops Suga's urging hand, pinpointing a gut-searing look in his eyes that is silently telling Suga to not argue any further. "I'm good. Okay? Don't worry about me." And he wields the blade around in his hands with smooth expertise to express reassurance.

Damn Daichi's reassuring looks. He could really deceive someone with them. That's if he isn't already.

Reluctance takes form in Suga's unconvinced expression. But he silently complies by drawing his gun-holding hand back and following Daichi down the dark stairs of the abandoned plaza.

\--

Nimble fingers ghost down the buttons of the electrical panel as Suga's eyes squint at the fine text above each switch. Even with Daichi shining the flashlight above him, it is hard to distinguish the letters that are scratched off with time.

Suga takes great caution with this task to prevent accidentally flipping the wrong switch. One misclick can prompt soldiers to storm in at the presence of unwarranted light. But that is with the assumption that the power still works.

A pure test of luck is conducted when Suga flips the first switch. Nothing. He flips the same switch back and forth several times, but nothing changes about the tenebrous dark of the room.

"Flipping it over and over won't make it work." Daichi snickers at the silly action, stating the clear damn obvious that somehow even Suga had not registered at the moment.

" _No really_." Suga drones in an unimpressed tone. Though the only person he should be unimpressed with is himself for being the one who is doing the useless action.

" _No really_ yourself, dork." Daichi shoots back.

Disregarding his words by only returning a disgruntled mumble, Suga could assume the bottom three switches are for the exterior lights since they are isolated like an island from the others. There is also the faded English letters 'EXT' above the island of switches. Doesn't take a smartass to figure out what that could mean. Or maybe it is because Suga _is_ a smartass.

Caving into his impatience with the newfound assumption, Suga resorts to flipping every switch one at a time. Each one avails no results until he gets to the sixth and eighth switch. Blinking lights are roused awake as if waking from a comatose slumber. The lights are intensely dim like a low set sunrise, but they are there, barely hanging on by a few watts.

"Holy shit, it still works!" Daichi's smile is cast wide, soon rippling a light laugh of awe against the ceiling. Both his and Suga's eyes glide around at the yellow-tinted glow lining the hall weakly.

"I'm surprised it's still even working after..." Suga's voice peters out into ambiguity because time itself has become ambiguous to keep up with.

"Yeah, but by the looks of it, it might give out in just a few hours of running." Daichi's eyes trail across the wall where some lights are flickered dead already, like ashen fire diffused by a feeble wind. But there is no discouragement in his eyes when they glance over at Suga. "But a few hours is plenty, ain't it?"

"Absolutely," Suga smirks with the same unwavering attitude. He is not even thinking about how hammered with exhaustion he and Daichi are going to be at the morning drills.

After spiraling halfway down a lengthy escalator (Suga had read about escalators in a book, and the idea of stairs moving on their own still appall him), they encounter metal beams of the foundation above collapsed at the dead center like a rampart fortress. It is overgrown with wild hairs of grass weeding over the debris, with even a lush green tree rooted amidst the rubble.

With their gazes traveling over them, they can see that the roof has a gaping hole in it that allows the seasons to nourish the tree with all it needs to flourish.

"I feel like I'm supposed to say something poetic at the sight of this." Suga shines his light down the bark for a better look through the dim room. The dents on the erratic curves of the wood seem to carve itself a face to stare back at.

"Give it a shot." Daichi urges with a guile smile.

"No. You're just trying to find the opportunity to make fun of me." Suga frowns as he kicks the metal rubble half-heartedly. His canvas sneakers are starting to slosh against the wet ground, and it poses as a slippery threat if the pair even dared to try and climb over. "We probably can't go down this way."

"Nice observation." The sarcasm in Daichi's deadpan is irking to Suga's ears.

"Shut up. I'm trying here." Suga chucks a pebble that he finds off the ground at Daichi, who in turn flinches with a laugh.

"There's probably a stairwell down this way." Daichi gives a nod of this head in the other direction.

Daichi's assumption is correct and they are barreling down the steps to emerge onto the second floor. The metal doors are flung open, but not with ease as its ear-scraping squeaks echo throughout the hollow building. The sound grows smaller and smaller with each scurrying resound resembling the feet of retreating mice.

The pillars are swathed by twisted vines with the foliage being colored in a deep venomous green. The leaves are blushed gold at the dim light that shines just below each vine. Glass and debris are like grains of sand on the ground, dusty and shattered with decay. The walls look the same as anywhere: solemnly scratched with black claws tearing at the skin, and retouched with abrupt graffiti that dresses up the state of abandonment the place is in.

What amazes Suga is how spacious the building's interior is. The glass balcony is sharded away with damage, but he still looks over with eyes patrolling around the floor beneath them. There is a large fountain at the center, parched dry with moss growing around it. Scaffolding lines the wall opposite of them, some collapsed from a wreck of abandoned cars that are gathered around like hungry bugs.

"Well isn't that a pleasant view," Daichi says dryly, his foot nudging at what looks like a severed arm. It is skeletal under a tattered piece of blue fabric that was likely once the sleeve of a shirt.

With his nose crinkling in disturbance, Suga is also mystified by the sight and approaches the arm with an intent stare. He's even considering picking it up or snagging the fabric as a keepsake of their exploration. Knees already starting to bend for the pickup, Daichi stops him with a quick grip of his reaching arm.

"Don't tell me you were about to pick that up." Daichi's face is contorted with disgust as his lips slightly part agape. A critical glare drills into the soft unknowing ones of Suga's.

Suga's eyes return the same intensity, but with lips drawn thin into a curt frown. "I'm not a milksop. I can stomach this."

"This isn't going to prove that."

A straightened back pulls Suga up tall, as if trying to say otherwise. "Lemme live a little."

"This is your idea of living? Picking up a severed arm?" Daichi says incredulously.

"Want me to sever yours instead?" Suga retorts as a pout-like glare darts up and down Daichi's toned arm in an attempt to look threatening. But it backfires like a laser to its own reflection because the latter only returns an unperturbed laugh. Embarrassed dismay rises in Suga's temples with sick heat, and he takes his arm back from Daichi. "Sheesh, do you really have to come for my pride like that? I'm a man too you know." An askance look from Suga darts off in the other direction bitterly.

But the sound of thin paper flitting against the air draws Suga's hazel eyes back like a bleating whistle to his ears. A ratted magazine sits under his gaze when Daichi holds it towards him like candy.

"You can entertain yourself with this instead." Daichi waves the magazine ahead. "It's a lot less gross."

A beam twinkles in Suga's eyes like a lightbulb sparkling alive, and he takes the magazine from Daichi's hand with hasty fervor. "You're now my most favorite person ever." He says with such innocence that Daichi almost misses the diss in his words.

" _Now?_ Ouch." Daichi takes it lightheartedly, seeing through the jest of Suga's words.

Magazines and books are like treasures to Sugawara Koushi. They are the windows of time that allow him to see records of what the world used to be before the Cordyceps collapsed it. He has a large collection in his room that he cycles through over and over, indulging himself with the vivid dream of what it would be like for him to live during a time where people could just, _live their lives_. To actually _enjoy_ living without trying so hard to _stay_ living.

The cover page is torn off so, the first page is already staring up at Suga's wanting eyes.

**TOKYO FASHION WEEK!!!**

"A bit excessive." Suga mumbles, the three exclamation points expressing great excitement over mere clothes that do not even look like they make sense.

Curiosity piques Daichi, and he goes to look over Suga's shoulder. "What is it?"

"Fashion week. I've seen so many things like this in other magazines."

"Like what?"

"Clothes." Suga's face is dimmed with an engrossing look. "People were so obsessed with clothes."

He flips to a page of sheer gossip that showered the text overwhelmingly. The words are small and inked black like an assembled line of ants walking across the page in a march.

The article covers something about someone important having cheated on their important partner with another important person. There are pictures on the page, crinkled and faded with wear. The couple, a male and a female, are walking with hands linked while sharing a smile. Nothing unordinary. But the caption reads: _Caught together in the Kyoto streets!_

"Talk about privacy." Suga clicks his tongue shamefully. "Imagine people caring about your life _this_ much."

"Went on to spin a story too." Daichi's finger flicks at the mountains of paragraphs that followed the topic heading. "If it's just another one of those gossip magazines, then I won't be offended if you toss it out."

But Suga instead stuffs it into his backpack as if he is adopting the thing. "It's still a piece of the old world. No matter how pointless things seem." Though, the pointlessness of it all is what makes Suga so envious of it.

When the two follow down the balcony path, they kick across a metal gate that is discarded on the ground. Their curious gazes lift over to the left of them where the gate once guarded an electronics shop. The name of the shop is nowhere above the entryway, and instead, there is a discolored patch of grey where a sign used to be.

A static glow from the back of the shop is bright enough to reach the pair's eyes in a faint smudge of light. Daichi starts to wordlessly head in and Suga trails behind while stepping across ashen dust that stains his already dirtied shoes with a dark color. The shop looks untouched by the apocalypse aside from dirtied walls and floors. But the items on the shelf remain tidy, and the posters encased in broken glass are still hung up.

A pale, curious hand gingerly picks at the side of something none other than a camera. The words _Polaroid: Instant Camera_ is labeled below the device in a greyed font _._ Recognition faintly jingles at the rear of Suga's mind with no articulate answer being drawn from his thoughts at the word _Polaroid._

The boxy weight of the camera drags down in Suga's palms when he takes the camera in his hands. Its squarish shape makes it difficult to hold with too many intimidating features parading around it. While turning it around in his hands, Suga soaks in the sight of the camera by dragging his gaze around it slowly. His finger slides to a bumped notch, and he presses down on it with much surprise ensuing afterward when a _click_ sounds from the device. A white concurrent flash briefly blinds Suga and paints his sight with a disorientingly bright color.

Daichi's averts to the flash with eyes narrowing towards the camera in Suga's hands. There is an audible whirring sound coming from the object, but nothing comes of it.

"I think that's the one that prints pictures right after you take it." Daichi laughs at the dazed look on Suga's face.

"Don't all of them do that?" Suga raises an inquiring brow.

Daichi makes a sound with his shrug, indicating that he's no expert.

Placing the camera back where it was, Suga follows Daichi past the corner of a shelf to spot him staring at the screen of the TV. Mere static crinkles pressed grey waves across the glass screen like an unfurling wave. The silver glow plasters a pallid white on Daichi's features, and his eyes appear to be searching through the crackling glow of the TV. Quite eerie to say the least.

"Are you seeing something I'm not?" Suga joins beside him with a prying look at the screen. The same static glow is now illuminating his face, but he sees nothing eye capturing. "Care to say what's got you thinking so hard?"

The end of Daichi's lip quirks up awkwardly. "What do you think people watched?" His gaze breaks from the TV to give attention to Suga. His brown eyes hold such liquid warmth that it is spilling into Suga's line of vision like a slowly sinking river of tar. And like tar, they are the only thing he can stare into where he finds difficulty in tearing away from. With the TV lighting half of his face, the silver-headed male could only gulp at the unmasked solemnity that rests in the deep irises of Daichi's eyes.

"Why do you sound so serious?" Sheer nerves push a light giggle out of Suga's lips.

A sheepish look breaks down the solemn one on Daichi's face to replace it with a wry smile. "Ah, I didn't mean to."

"Don't be embarrassed, I was just teasing." Suga has a crooked smile of his own. "People probably watched TV to find entertainment. Like shows."

"I know _that_ much _,_ obviously. But I'm wondering what kind."

"Funny ones, scary ones, romantic ones. Anything, we can think of, they probably had it." It is hard to imagine seeing anything on a screen that is not a digital terrain map.

"I know _that_ much too."

"Then why are you asking?" Suga purses his lips because he's finding Daichi unreadable.

Daichi shrugs with uncertainty masking over his face with concealment. "I don't know, conversation?" And that response is not helping either.

A spontaneous hand jabs at the brunette's side, causing him to stumble back with a grunt. "What the hell was that for?"

"You know what that was for." Suga folds his arms across his chest with a firm look sewing between his eyes. "What's up?"

"So your best idea is to hit me." Amusement starts stirring back in Daichi's voice. "Classic."

"What's _up?"_ Suga persists. "Don't stall."

"Jesus, okay okay." Daichi's hands raise with a surrender. Suga's stare has the tendency to be as intense as the face of gunpoint. "What gave it away?"

"I don't know, it just _did_." Suga gives a dismissive shrug. Hazel eyes swing down to the floor before muttering, "I can tell, ya know."

A stiffening spine pulls Daichi back up tall at those words. It is like a tight clutch of sweet air holding his heart at the palms and blowing on it gingerly to bring comfort. So he manages a thin-lipped smile. "I was just reminiscing." He wonders in the span of a split second whether to be direct or to beat around the bush to spare himself some thought. "And I wanna know why you never wanted to room with me." So he chooses to be direct. Otherwise, he will only earn himself another jab from Suga if he kept at it.

That question, again. The mention of it causes a softening change in Suga's face. One that is inevitably rolling downhill into the dangerous zones of awkward, and what looks like parrying discomfort. Daichi has watched it happen every time, and it has always made him wonder why. Sometimes, with a hurt taste in his gut.

An embarrassed chuckle breathes out Daichi upon seeing that same expression. "Yeah, dumb question, I know. Really immature, right?"

"No, keep going." Suga forces himself to sit through the nerves crackling up and down his stomach. Because he can tell how much the thought has been bubbling inside Daichi up until this point. Especially at how quick he was to defend his statement.

"It's _really_ stupid-"

"It's not." Now Suga is the one to quickly defend him. This earns a surprised look from Daichi. "Keep going." Suga's words are terse, partly because his throat is souring with apprehension. But it comes off as impatiently curt on Daichi's end.

"If you insist." Daichi's chuckle is now mirthless, but not exactly cold. It is more ashamed if anything. "But, aren't _you_ supposed to answer?"

Tension paralyzes Suga's shoulders, and his brows unfurl in a disconcerting manner. "Oh, um." He is not ready to craft an answer yet. Because he is not sure if he should craft an honest one. And with Daichi's expectant gaze, it is hard to decide under that pressure. "I wanted to hear more of what you had to say."

A slack grin gives mockery on Daichi's face. "Now look who's stalling."

With his pride now provoked, Suga decides to spite that claim. "Shush, fine, I'll answer." He huffs. That elicits an adoring grin from Daichi that has Suga wanting to scream in an inward panic. He _could_ still lie about it like a bastard, but he thinks Daichi deserves better. Or rather, he knows he does. "It's because I didn't want to get too close." The words roll out his tongue in an uncomfortable manner, and Suga already wants to say he's just kidding in order to rid the pressure in his throat.

Daichi's head tilts innocently, but his knitted brows give way to an obscure understanding that he is grasping.

"I didn't want to get too close, because, I knew that if we did, I'd only hate leaving." Suga's hands are now being held in front of him with fingers twiddling against each other in a wriggling wrestle. His heart is rattling in the cages of his chest, and he is all too aware of the nervous quakes threatening to capsize his voice. "I mean, I already hate it now, but I think I'd hate it even more... if we got too close."

 _If we got too close_ is now echoing down Daichi's throat with a prolonged swallow "Got too close? As in... dating?"

Suga's twitching reaction alone is an answer to his question when the male starts hopelessly sputtering. "I m-mean, yeahhhh..?" He drags out the last word as if it would stabilize his voice. The nervous heat gathering at the back of Suga's neck is now itching for a rub of his hand. "I mean, _yes_. I was afraid of liking you."

"So-"

"I mean, I _do_ like you," Suga interjects quickly with his hands springing from its twiddle. Well shit, way to make it even more awkward than it already is. "Wait, no. Well, _yes_ and I'm not lying but what _that_ was supposed to convey was that it's not cause I didn't like you _at all_."

Daichi muses a laugh at the blush starting to unveil in Suga's pale complexion. "I thought it was cause you were repulsed by me or something."

Guilt starts to trod down Suga's throat like an unpleasantly languid waterfall. "What?"

"I thought you could tell I was into you or something and so that's why you didn't want to room with me." Daichi answers. "You know, cause I'm a guy."

"Repulsed?" Suga hangs onto that word rather than the straightforward confession Daichi has just thrown his way. "Why would I be repulsed?"

"You tell me." Daichi shrugs. "You would always avoid my eyes when I would ask and then switch the subject before I can ask why. I thought it was cause you were grossed out by me?" His voice at the end perks up like an inquiry, but one look at hazel eyes and he knows it's not true. "I can read you just as well you can read me, Suga."

"Well, you clearly read it _wrong_ cause I wasn't-- I'm not repulsed. " Now Suga's words are speeding out his lips like a slippery ride down a zipline. "I never was, I was just scared to like you more than I already do."

"So, you like me?" A pleasing grin gives way to the warmth that is green-housing in Daichi's chest.

"I already said that, didn't I?"

"You kinda breezed past that detail if ya ask me." Daichi snorts.

"You're really a piece of work..." Suga groans with a humored jolt crackling in his throat.

"Sorry, can't help it." A hand idly scratches at Daichi's head with a bashful chuckle. The comfort of Suga's affirmed feelings prompt Daichi to grow close with small steps. Having to resist stepping back in a flustered panic, Suga gulps down the nervous spit circling in his mouth.

The stare of brown eyes caresses down Suga's features like the fluttering wings of a butterfly: slow and meaningful with noiseless adoring grace. Daichi has always been a looker, that much has always been obvious, but now Suga is caught with the curiosity of whether his inspecting gazes are limited to him or not.

"You're creepy." Suga smiles out as if those words are supposed to be sweet.

A shy look takes form in Daichi's brows and smile. "Is it cause I stare?"

Well, at least he knows.

Suga's lowered gaze allows him to observe that Daichi's steps towards him are not stopping at a distance. "Uh-huh. I always thought it was just a courtesy thing you do." He lifts his head to meet the other male's gaze when he gets more than what's expected. A close-scoped view of those luminous brown eyes surveying hazel ones with hooded lids of adoration. It's as if Daichi could fall asleep to the mere presence of Suga. "You're only further proving my point."

Daichi is within proximity for his body heat to be felt without contact.

"You're bullying me into this shelf." A lowered voice is accompanied by those words as Suga plays his part in leaning into the other's space with a challenging tilt of his head. It's as if it is a fight for spatial territory. There, he soaks in the scent of Daichi's pheromones that smell of aromatic tobacco dust.

"You look like you're about to start something." Daichi teases with a soft laugh. His smile is innocent and widely stretched across his cheeks while his hands are pocketed into his jeans, causing his shoulders to be stiffed up beside him.

"Are you asking me to? Cause I totally can." The grim tone in Suga's voice and smile suggests something other than what is already painfully obvious between them.

"Not anything violent, sheesh." Daichi's rumbling laugh is quieted for Suga to feel intensely against their lack of space.

"You expect _me_ to be the one to start something?" Suga emits a breathy, unfair chuckle. "You're the worst."

"Worse than the infected?" A finger from the other brushes against the blushing apple of Suga's cheek, with brown eyes following his own thumb's movement.

"Maybe."

Maybe it was an anxious impulse to follow through what Daichi was laying out for him. Maybe it was his thoughts rebelling against what he's been avoiding for so long. Or maybe Sugawara Koushi was just being an idiot when he grabs Daichi by his henley shirt to finally pull him in for a taste of his lips.

The other male was unsurprisingly expecting it, and his hands claim a spot around Suga's waist in hopes to grow familiar there. Suga's lips work vehemently at Daichi's and imprints heavy surprise in the latter. He had expected Suga to be a shy kisser. One that is as feathery and light as when he's in the air. But it is instead sharp and intense with crass passion as his hands mirror such feeling when they coast up Daichi's neck.

The back of Suga's backpack finally meets with the shelf behind him and disrupts the once tepid silence of the room with a light clatter of items falling to the floor. Sighing between his lips, Daichi leaves a heavy kiss up Suga's bottom lip, sparking an electrifying sensation that goes down the latter's jaw and through his teeth where a light hum of pleasure meets. Daichi's shoulders are taut with muscle when Suga feels them down, and Daichi himself can feel the taut tension in his ribs start liquifying into something wanting and saccharine with joy.

Strong arms sweep Suga off his feet to pin him against the shelf and elicit a brief yelp from the latter. But they glide along with it when the male wraps his legs around the other. Fingers are now weaving through short brown hair with Suga's small mewls of joy being enough to hypnotize Daichi.

They are mid-kiss when Suga's voice starts speaking. "Wait-"

But Daichi does not wait.

"Wait- Daichi," Suga tries again, but he's cut off with a kiss that laps up and down the best parts of his mouth. But before Suga could melt into it, he finally snaps out of what he expects to be a dream. "Hey dummy -- I said _wait-!"_

A hand cups over Daichi's mouth abruptly with fingers drawn together tight for desperate composure. Panting breaths could be felt against Suga's palm with quick and warm sighs being trapped against Daichi's own lips. His eyes are wide with surprise while Suga's are hooded with a glow being muted by an earnest look.

"This defeats the whole purpose of me trying not to get attached," Suga's voice cracks against his very desire not to. His gut seizes up an aggressive type of guilt that begins seeping from the back of his head and down his spine like dripping rainwater.

Daichi edges his face away from Suga's palm so he can speak. "You're the one who started it." He smirks, earning himself a scowl from the other.

But instead of retorting as Daichi expects, the exact opposite ensues.

"I messed up." Suga's voice whimpers with his eyes glistening from the light of the TV. As much as he is so feverishly happy at their revelation, Suga knows he will not be able to let go of the strings he has just attached to Daichi. It is a twisted pot of both anxiety and euphoria stirring in Suga's gut as he is not sure which one he is paying more attention to.

Warm lips leave a chaste kiss on the milky-colored skin of Suga's neck. Nestling his face in his nape, Daichi already feels like he belongs there on Suga's shoulder.

"Think about something else, will you?" Daichi's voice whisks warmly against Suga's jaw with the traces of his lips tickling like hesitant fingertips. "Just think about right now."

Normally, Suga would never be able to admit that he can. His mind is always gliding around other things with a listless attitude. He has never been able to drop an anchor on his thoughts, but it seems now is the time he has decided to.

"Okay." Arms wrap around Daichi's neck to gather the heat of his skin like a blanket. Suga thought he could cry, whether it be of joy or of sadness, but no tears are brimming anymore. His nose nuzzles into Daichi's sharp jaw where Suga can feel excited tremors ricocheting under his skin.

"Thanks," Daichi mumbles by Suga's ear.

This time, Suga thinks silence is the most proper response.

\--

The smell of old books is the most captivating, in Suga's opinion. And luckily, the apocalypse has plenty of those.

"You've been reading that one for a while." Daichi looks over from where he is standing at the bookshelf. His fingers trace a line through the dust that cloaks the spines of books. "What ya reading?"

"Nothing important." Suga is parked on the floor with his legs crossed, and his eyes never lift from the page of the book.

"Nothing important? Nothing but your fingers to turn the page has moved for twenty minutes, and you're telling me it's nothing important?" Daichi chortles incredulously.

Roguish hazel eyes look up at Daichi as the book lifts to mask the quicksilver male's face from the nose down. "You wish it were you I was paying more attention to?"

Daichi crouches down in front of Suga with a finger hooking onto the center bend of the book and pulls it away from the latter's coy expression. "I'd expect at least an acknowledging glance after we just made out in the video store."

" _Just_ made out?" The edge of Suga's lips perks, bearing an overly demure expression that Daichi can see right through like tempered glass.

"Don't make it sound like we had sex." Daichi reprovingly taps a hand on Suga's cheek before standing back up.

"Never said it." Suga smugs out a grin.

"I said _sound like_." Daichi bends a brow with an ajar smile. "I'm calling you out for insinuating."

"Mhm." Suga hums, the back of his head meeting the wall behind him to lift his gaze up at Daichi. "Well?"

"Well, what?" Daichi's hands mess with his jean pockets confusedly.

"You look like you're about sick of this place." Suga breathes a light giggle against the leaning book in his hand.

"I don't read as much as you, if at all. So yeah."

The pair had found the library by going through a labyrinth sort of path within the building after the video store debacle. Predictably so, Suga could not resist the discovery and they end up spending the next hour in there. The two are pleasantly surprised to find that nothing cloyingly awkward has grown between them since then. There is no more clamshell sort of anxiety that clamps away at their guts. Instead, they find bantering with witty suspense much easier to go about it.

"Alright, we can go elsewhere then." Getting up from the floor, Suga shelves the book back where he had found it.

"Not keeping it?" Daichi asks.

"That's why I'm putting it back, right?" Suga's smile mutes the playful glimmer burning in his eyes.

"You had been fixed on it the entire time, so one could assume." Daichi pinches his fingers at Suga's chin to turn his gaze towards his annoyed expression. "Also, you've been awfully mouthy whenever I do or say anything now. You're choosing an awful time to be a sassy prince."

The space between Suga's brows creases with a pout emphasizing his bottom lip. "Owwwww you're pinching it too hard." He swats at Daichi's hand until it retreats away before scoffing out, "Maybe you're just sensitive."

Daichi only mumbles a light-hearted riposte under his breath when the other male walks off towards the exit with a cold shoulder.

They are on-- whatever floor. Most of what they can gather is that it's frequently broken through with damage as they crunch past piles of discarded wood on each site. Nature pries through the ceiling in the form of vines slithering through the roof like roots of growing hair. Spots of grass and moss sludge down the wall and debris, and it's enough to convince Daichi and Suga that they are underground.

And being underground where infectious spores most likely thrive is one of the furthest things from reassuring that they can imagine. The corpse of the infected could also be emitting spores in the damp depths of the underground. Those motherfuckers can die and _still_ infect people by having the fungus bloom wherever their skin can burst.

It is a conclusive fact that Daichi and Suga need to find their way back up to ground level, that is, if they aren't already on it. They are finding difficulty navigating their surroundings through thickets of vines and debris, and that fact alone should be alarming.

"Is it just me, or did the lights just get dimmer?" Suga finds himself squinting in order to see ahead, and Daichi has the same concurrent realization.

"The power might be tailing out sooner than expected." Daichi's tone is progressing to a serious one, with the jest of it from before slowly vanishing off into the depths of the room like mist.

"We'll be fine, we just need to find a way up." Suga's smile crinkles at his eyes with a muted sort of panic in his voice.

The brick walls they find themselves enclosed by are ice cold upon touch. The ground is littered with soaked cardboard boxes, and what exactly soaked them is beyond Daichi and Suga. The only thing that is not beyond them about it is that it makes a disturbingly spongy sound when stepped on.

The room they are in resembles the abandoned butcher shop back in their Sendai quarantine, except it's connected to two doorless hallways leading in opposite directions.

Daichi grabs Suga's wrist so abruptly that the latter nearly fires his Glock into the void.

About to chastise him for the sudden grab, Suga ceases from doing so. "SSh!" Daichi's hush is sharp and pointed like the tactical blade he pulls out, and his stone-hard expression sinks a bite of alarm into Suga.

Giving a silent inquiry of 'what?' through distressing brows, Daichi answers by pointing a finger up to his ear. Then he mouths 'listen'.

Confused, Suga hears nothing but tepid silence. Nothing but undisturbed air settling hot on his skin like a weighted blanket, but it really takes an earful and a solemn staring contest with the other for the sound of infected to be heard from down the opposite hall. It is very faint, _so very faint_ that Suga is stunned at how Daichi could have possibly heard it.

It's a croaking noise that rolls out a stalker's throat in irregular waves. Not exactly a patterned clicking like the clickers make, but a distinct constant croak that chokes out echoes of their parched throat in an attempt to adapt echolocation. It is sandpaper to the ears and loud with strained vocals climbing up to higher pitches like an unsteady ladder.

There is also the restless and violent moan of runners mixed in with the croaking stalkers. The runners' voices rumble and grumble with more human-like roars due to their early stage of infection.

A tug at Suga's arm gains Daichi the former's attention. "Let's go back." His voice is hushed, and Suga couldn't have agreed any faster in his entire life.

The noises of the infected gradually grow more distant until they've gone deathly mute to the pair's ears. But that fact is not any more comforting than it could have been. Now aware that infected are present, the two are vigilant with silent darts of their eyes. Their glares sweep across every corner with their backs stiff and their fingertips buzzing, ready to lash out at any sudden movement or sounds.

They take a different route from the library of the labyrinth-like building, climbing over collapsed beams, sliding between colossal rubble, and jumping up to climb a broken stairway.

Suga's hand reaches down at Daichi after the latter had just lifted him up for the climb. "Here, just jump and I'll pull you up."

Never doubting him for a second, Daichi lunges up with a reach for Suga's hand, and their grips collide with a satisfying _clap_. Suga leans back on his heels to tug Daichi up, who is heavy with muscle. The anchored weight at Suga's feet has him using both his hands to assist hoisting the other male up.

Suga can feel the fibers of his arm muscles tightening desperately until Daichi's other hand finally plants a firm grip on the ground beside Suga. With a clenched jaw and gritted teeth showing through parted lips, Suga lugs Daichi the rest of the way up before he is finally able to plant his feet on the ground.

Suga rises up from his crouch, huffing tiredly. "You're heavy." He gasps out.

A goofy grin encases Daichi's features. "Maybe you just need to work out more?"

"Rude." Suga gives a cursory punch to Daichi's arm and feels the hard muscle against his knuckles. "You just have a genetic advantage whereas I'm calling nature out on that atrocity."

Snorting, Daichi continues up the rest of the unbroken steps. It is as if that brief banter is a quick bob of air before dipping back down to solemn guard.

Or perhaps it is the calm before the storm.

The floor they're on is finally above ground. They can spot the pitch-black sky through broken glass at the end of the hall. It sends a cold breeze to swim in the air as it ghosts a shiver down Suga's back. But this time he does not complain.

Eventually, they lead themselves into a room with desks lining the walls in a rushed and disorganized fashion. At the end of the room, they approach a heavy metal door that is sleek with scratches down its frame. Suga attempts at it with a light push, expecting it to come easy. But it does not budge. It only thumps with the sound of his shoulder forcing against it, and before Daichi could suggest they move elsewhere, the door is slammed open with a wind-pushing swing.

Suga is about ready to retort Daichi's earlier comment, about how he needed to work out more. But the words at the tip of his tongue are abandoned when the elongated sound of a croaking screech sounds their way.

Stalkers and runners. The room behind the metal door is filled with them as if they were deliberately trapped there to die amongst themselves.

The stalkers' faces are bursting. Their eye sockets are popped red with a sickly pink coagulating onto their deathly yellow skin. The surface of their skin is scratched with claws of blood down their arms and young fungi breaking through from their veins. The Cordyceps fungus is sprouting out their forehead and temples, mussing their blood-sticky hair into thin thread-like mops that tangle around the roots of the fungi.

The roots are swimming its way out of their ears, noses, and sockets, peeling them with swollen bulbs underneath their perfectly visible and rounded eyes. Flashes of their skull could be seen, the disease bursting through their brains with deadly control. Their voices could only wail and croak mindlessly at the demise of the virus commandeering their system.

A stench like carcasses and rotting flesh emanates off of the infected. Their backs are hunched forward in a distorted bend with legs positioned apart, ready to pounce on anything that smells sweet like the uninfected. The pack makes a shrieking noise of acknowledgment at Daichi and Suga, and simultaneously, they all start rushing with excited feet and disorienting wails that tells of nothing human.

"Suga!" Daichi shouts, telling him to react.

Lifting the gun swiftly, a shot is fired with an aggressive _bang!_ A stalker cries out in a bloody voice with its arms swatting in the air, before rearing back for another lunge. Suga shoots again, aiming for the head this time. Though clearly damaged with popped bursts of blood parading droplets on Suga's cheeks, the stalker doesn't cease in its efforts to get its hands on him. The fungi on the stalker's head are starting to take solid shape and acts as a feeble shield to its host's brain.

Daichi and Suga bolt it in the other direction with the squawks of the infected chasing after them.

"Daichi, where to?" Suga's voice is quivering so violently that he barely feels anything in his throat at all.

"I don't-" _Know_ is what Daichi means to say, but the horrid presence of a stalker rounds the corner of the hall just as they are about to round it themselves.

The fingers of slender hands reach for Daichi's neck, and the pair are deafened by the cacophonous high-pitched croak emitting out the stalker's stench-filled mouth. The rough pads of fungus surrounding its fingertips scrape traces of old blood up Daichi's tan skin, and he clasps a resisting hand around the stalker's sandpapery throat in a hurried attempt to fight back.

With a handful of the blood-soaked hair, Suga pins the gun up to where the stalker's temple used to be and blows a bullet through its fungi-guarded brain. Blood spatters like tossed rain on Daichi's and Suga's features, looking more gruesome on the pale complexion of the latter's. Before even savoring such a kill, Daichi grabs Suga's arm to tug him in the other direction.

The gunshots rocket an echo across the halls as if inviting a pack of infected in their direction. Daichi pulls into a double-doored room for brief refuge, and with a quick-witted reaction, he slams the doors closed after Suga retreats in. He slides a long metal piece of rubble from the floor into the handles, before bodies begin slamming against the door on the other side with roaring cries of the infected.

The thudding impacts on the door are beating bowling balls into the walls of Suga's chest.

"It won't hold them forever-- this way." Daichi's voice is stunningly collected, and he runs across the room to slam a desperate shoulder against another set of double doors to reveal an unfamiliar hall.

The hall is narrow much to their misfortune. The barricaded door behind them is muffling the bellowing screams of the infected, but there is more coming from the left of the hallway. All of them are runners, speeding through the dark corridor with the hunger for infection. Their bearing teeth are fresh red, the blood framing their gaping mouths as throat splitting cries reach the pair's ears with jarring discord.

To the right of the hallway, the floor is abruptly caved in to reveal the floor below them that is nothing but straight concrete after at least a twenty-foot drop.

"We're jumping across." Daichi yanks Suga towards the direction of the caved floor.

Daichi jumps across to the other side. Not a long distance but definitely an intimidating one. Once Suga gets across with unsurprising ease, they sprint off from the sound of runners attempting their own jumps.

By the sounds of it, some are successful, and some are not.

Runners are the first stage of infection. Therefore there aren't any fungi sprouting here and there on the fields of their body, but the moaning wails and screams they cry out sound close to how an uninfected person would sound. A hostile chill soars through Suga's veins when he hears them running behind him with heavy steps as if there are stones at the soles of their feet.

Thighs are burning, arms are pumping, and breaths are uncontrollably panting. Suga's heart is beating out his entire body like a seizuring siren that is screaming into his muscles without rest. Adrenaline is rushing to his head like overcharged powerlines on a windy day, spinning a dense web of fear between the curves of his ribs despite them aching so much. Daichi keeps looking back at Suga to make sure he's there, and Suga keeps nodding back to let him know he's faring just fine.

There's an open entryway at the end of that hall that leads into a large room that resembles a warehouse.

"How far did we go from the plaza!" Suga shouts with pure panic stretching his voice at such volume.

"Doesn't matter! But our best shot is to the roof!" Daichi's words are rushed in one heavy pant.

No protest is exchanged because the runners are nearing.

There is an overturned truck between them and the other side. Suga can see another long hallway through the crack between the cargo and the head of the vehicle, so he positions himself with his back by the truck and his hands joined under him to act as a step-up lift.

"You go first!"

Although Daichi wants to protest, he doesn't. Their lives kind of depend on it. With a head start, Daichi runs and jumps a foot on Suga's offered lift that launches him up _just_ enough for his calloused hands to reach the top. From there he pulls himself up in one swift motion.

Daichi immediately crouches down with an eager hand and shouts a command to hurry.

Their hands join into a death-gripping grasp when Suga makes a jump up for his life. His vertical is not the most impressive, therefore Daichi's arm reaches down low for the other even if it means the pull will be more difficult. In the middle of hauling him up, just as he is almost there, the motion is stilted by a runner grabbing hold of Suga's dangling feet.

"Daichi-" Sheer panic pikes Suga's voice up with a hastened breath, and his eyes grow wide with shock. The grip Daichi has on Suga's hand is deathly tightened until the latter's fingertips are starting to spark numb.

"It's okay, it's okay. I got you." It becomes a tug of war between the violently growling runner and Daichi, both trying to claim Suga onto their end.

Suga uses his other hand to reach for the Glock and holds it out to Daichi. "Are you able to shoot?"

Without even an affirming answer, Daichi grabs the gun and hastily shoots the runners dead with three bangs. The light of gunfire flashes in those brown eyes of his, exploring the cross look gripping his features together as he bears with the violent sound of bullets firing. He pulls Suga up the rest of the way before jumping down onto the other side to sprint through a tunneling hall.

The walls are backed with bricks and there are scraps of metal piled by their running feet. Suga shoots a couple of runners dead while Daichi stabs a few out himself. Bullets are flying every which way, painting itself an invisible trail through the air like strings on a map.

After turning into another separate hall, Daichi finds a metal cart that is off to the side and shoves it in the infected's way, earning a few frustrated cries. Suga turns in another few fires of the Glock to watch runners fall dead with bullets between their eyes.

They retreat up the stairs in hopes to find a saving grace waiting before their eyes. Prayers are answered when the sight of escalators awaits across the building from the stairs.

"Go!" Daichi urges. "Just go!"

"Hold on, I'll catch up--" Suga fires a few more shots down the stairway, making sure the rest of their hell ride will smooth out.

"No, get your ass over here!" Daichi barks from where he is running.

"Fine, damn it..." Suga mumbles to himself and starts off to catch up to an already far ahead Daichi.

The soles of their feet are beaten sore, and Daichi is the first to reach an escalator that is dressed with crumbles of debris. He jumps over them swiftly, ducking, squeezing, running.

"Watch out, it's slippery!" Daichi calls out to Suga who has just reached the escalators.

With throbbing arms, Suga starts up the steps and launches himself over the first piece of rubble. He hears runners doing the same behind him as his feet get carelessly quick against the slippery steps. He is just about climbing over a toppled beam with patches of grass on top when a runner grabs his ankle with a foreign touch.

Suga's immediate reaction is to kick that bastard square in the face.

But after landing the impact, he slips off the beam and ends the drop with a crash to the sharp escalator steps. The brutal landing evokes a cry of pain from Suga, and it rings a thrumming echo against the building. Daichi calls out to him from above, but he can't answer when the runner starts going for a rebound.

The quicksilver male stumbles up and fires two shots at the runner's head, silencing its crying moans. He goes for a third at the next one that roars a battle cry when the gun shoots nothing but air.

He's out of bullets, and he doesn't have any more on him.

The runner is closing in on Suga's space, who uses the butt of the gun to slam an uppercut up its jaw. Its head snaps back briefly with a human-like cry of anguish. Suga's back stiffens at the sound with unwarranted guilt, and he abandons the gun on the ground behind him to swift out his switchblade.

He clicks the blade open and drives it into the lunging runner's neck. Again, and again, and again. Dashes of flying blood plunge in freckled splatters on his face, and a harsh gurgling sound gasps out the runner's mouth.

The runner falls dead at Suga's feet, but he's blindsided by another tackling him against the steps.

The on-hand combat has Suga pulling the very card he has no charms with. And he quickly descends from being a stalking crow to a clipped one.

Teeth sink into the skin on the soft of Suga's shoulder, and terrible realization parades his guts more than the gushing pain does at his shoulder. He feels as if he could scream, but his voice is paralyzingly tied in the traps of his throat, only allowing panic to soak down his shoulder in the form of his own blood. The runner's teeth remain sunken in like anchors dipping in quicksand, only releasing its hold when a squawk of pain rips out its mouth from the switchblade driving into its nape.

Fending the runner off with an arm against its chest, Suga skewers his switchblade into the runner's temple. Blood spews down his pale arm to paint it like a red torch of blood against innocent white pillars.

The runner screeches with restlessly thrashing arms, but this is subdued by a heavy shove away from Suga. A rush of adrenaline-drugged motions starts working the blade over and over into the runner's neck and face, even after it is long dead on the floor in front of him.

The sound of Daichi's feet lands behind Suga, and the male has the ammo he had failed to give Suga when he first handed him the Glock. He releases the empty magazine of the gun, letting it fall to the floor with a clatter and reloads it with a new one. He shoots dead the two more runners making their way up, and then there was no more trailing behind.

Heavy silence would have been appreciated, just to get a moment's rest of that fucking chaos. But Daichi has other plans. He yanks Suga up with a demanding grip, clearly unaware of the fate Suga has just been sealed with. "Get to the rooftop, we have to go."

Half-hearted with a whimper, Suga pulls away with the same amount of force Daichi has. "I can't, no-"

" _No?_ Now is not the time to say no." Daichi's eyes are unknowing and a touch aggravated at the initial resistance. But those brows quickly unfurl when he sees Suga make quiet pants to himself with eyes cast down to the floor with affliction. "Hey, wait, what happened?"

Suga backs away when Daichi approaches him with hands ready to comfort. A stinging shoulder with blood cascading down under his shirt is a harsh way for reality to tell Suga that he _fucked up_ a great ton.

"Stop milking this and tell me what's wrong." Daichi can only expect the worst when his eyes search up and down the blood-paraded form of a traumatized Suga, who looks like an angrily splattered canvas of scarlet red.

"I've been bitten."

Eyes sweep up and down Suga a second time, his gaze alone bleeding past the red on his skin to search for a telling bite. As if that would change the situation. "No... no, you haven't." Denial is already burrowing itself a home in Daichi.

Proving him wrong, Suga pulls back the collar of his white blood-splattered shirt to unveil a row of punctured skin, captured around in a circle with blood dribbling down profusely. It is indeed, a bite.

"I-- what--" Brown eyes are now cast wide, with an expression cut gruesomely by the heavy stone of realization pitting in Daichi's gut. "Christ... shit, I should've-"

"Stop! Just... shush..." Suga's voice is bursting like an overflowing tap. A bloodied hand raises to wipe away a silent reticent tear that is leaking down his face. It leaves a smeared mark of red brushing up the apple of his right cheek.

A visible tremor vibrates through Suga's arms. His angelic features that are so familiar with smiles are now marred with mortifying pain. Blood is splattered like freckles on his moonlight skin with his honey glowing eyes now defaced by pleading fear dripping down his irises, and his shoulders are visibly tense with stilted quakes that make it look like he is being held together by mere strings.

Sniffling away a cry, Suga wipes an arm across his nose. "You know what you have to do." His voice is unexpectedly articulate with no tremble in his throat as if he has already accepted what has to come. The tone is grave and suggesting, and Daichi knows exactly what it conveys.

"No, and don't say it." Daichi refuses with a grave tone of his own while he peers over to try and meet Suga's elusively lowered gaze. "Cause I'm not gonna do it. We are _not_ crusading down that path."

"Why? So I can turn into one of _these_ things?" Bitterness lashes out Suga's voice like a whip, and he gestures down at the array of infected corpses on the steps of the escalator. A gruesome sight, especially the one in Suga's mind when he imagines his own infected self, lying somewhere dark and rotting with death as spores grow out his body. "You want me to end up like that?"

"Stop, I am _not_ killing you!" Daichi's voice raises. It sends a resounding echo through the unfamiliarly quiet place, but Suga only blinks up at him with a feigned unwavering attitude.

"Got any other ideas, genius?" Suga chuckles humorlessly. "Or are you gonna wait for me to turn? Or you wanna get bitten too? Be those dumb star-crossed lovers like in the books and die together?" The structure of Suga's voice slowly crumbles the more he speaks.

"No, just... no. Not me, not you, not ever, I..." Daichi is not sure what he wants. He is not sure why he is refusing to do what Suga wants him to do. He _knows_ that it's the best way for him to go. He _knows that._

So _why_ is he trying to believe otherwise?

"I have two days, Daichi. Time doesn't stop, you know. I have two days until _this_ takes me." Suga points at the exposed bite on his shoulder with an accusatory finger, as if it is a separate being of its own. His voice is collapsing into cracks of a shout to hold back the reality of his break down threatening to crumble him to the floor. "What do you want me to do, wait two days?"

"Yes." Daichi's answer is unexpected and utterly foolish. Because he has no reason behind it.

"Stop being so _ignorant!_ " Suga musters a forceful shove to Daichi's chest as he stumbles away. He hides his face in the reds of his palms with frustrated tension trembling at his grip. "I'm going to _die._ Whether it be now or later, and the former sounds like a better fate to succumb to, doesn't it?" Even though having just pushed him away, Suga reaches for Daichi's hand to grab. "Think about it, will you? Stupid..." His voice cracks into a small panicked sob with his head lowered and hidden from Daichi's distressed expression.

It's like watching an angel lose its wing, in Daichi's eyes. His own arm is starting to lose feeling to the trembles at his chest as he fights off his own tears threatening to fall. Instead, he sucks in a breath that feels painful to take in with the ache in his chest that is growing like a parasite.

Lithe hands reach for the gun in Daichi's grip, attempting to lift his wrist as an act of encouragement. But the handgun is quickly tossed back behind him upon realizing what Suga is trying to pull.

Instead, Daichi joins his fingers against Suga's. The latter begrudgingly reciprocates as their blood-sticky palms join with intertwined fingers. "You can't tell me to do something like that after we just got like _this_." He gives a tight squeeze to Suga's hand as if he would melt away if he didn't.

Hooded eyes and painfully furled brows look up at Daichi's warm and pleading gaze. "This is why I wanted no strings attached." Suga smiles through tear-drenched eyes as Daichi feels his back tense up. "Would you have killed me if we weren't like this?"

"I would never kill you. End of story."

"You're being selfish as shit, you know."

"I'm taking a chance." Daichi is trying to pull Suga in for a safe hug, but the latter keeps resisting.

Shaking his head slowly, Suga delivers a weak, mirthless smile. "There are no chances."

The sharp _schlick_ of the switchblade being cast out is abrupt against the near silence between them. It is abrupt enough for Daichi to realize and prevent Suga's arm from driving the blade up the side of his own neck. Daichi's reflexes have always been the most impressive thing Suga has ever encountered, but he finds it to be a curse at the moment.

With an unsteady voice, Suga chokes out a strangled sound that is supposed to be a sob from his throat.

Daichi forces the blade out of Suga's hand and tosses it back with the gun behind them. Not allowing any more tricks, Daichi's grips are set on Suga's wrists.

"Give me those two days to make them your best," Daichi says pleadingly before any more protest from the other.

"It might not even _be_ two days-"

"However much time you have left, I will make them your best. We can go further out of the city, find more fun places. We can explore more, I don't know-" Daichi inhales a breath of reluctance, his face quivering with distasteful words waiting on the tip of his tongue. "And the moment you start turning, I'll end it... for you."

"I-"

"You won't even realize." Daichi presses Suga against his chest as a way to shut him up. Both of their hearts are thrumming violently against the fibers of their hearts. "I'll make it so quick you won't even realize you've turned."

"But what about you?" Suga asks with doubt weighing in his tone. "And school? The military-"

"We're not going back." It is impossible for them to do so at this point. "We'll only raise hell if we go back."

"I'm asking about _you_." Suga squeezes the sleeve of Daichi's shirt helplessly. " _You_ , what's gonna happen to you once I'm gone?"

"Don't worry about that." Daichi's voice is soft and pillowy when he burrows into Suga's neck with desperation.

"Well, I'm worrying-!"

"I'll figure it out." Daichi pulls away to show Suga a reassuring smile.

What has always been cursed about Daichi's reassuring smiles is that they are always so believable.

Even when he is aware of the spell that is bound to Daichi's smiles, Suga still finds himself succumbing to it. "I hate you." He sniffles with a scrunched nose to keep from making an ugly cry. Perhaps it's an agreement that Suga is offering now.

Daichi chuckles with a small tint of humor in that handsome smile. "I'm pretty good at making you hate me." Daichi's thick-skinned palm cups Suga's blood-smeared cheek. His half-moon grin sends Suga's heart into an excited tremor, almost allowing him to forget the throbbing pain at his bitten shoulder. "Let's get you patched up and we'll catch some rest for the morning."

Daichi looks at Suga's blood-soaked t-shirt and flannel with misery blooming in his face. This prompts the latter to squeeze his hands comfortingly. "I'm okay."

No, he is not okay. But that is a lie they will both have to believe for now.

They find a place near the roof to retire to for the remaining hours of the night. Albeit it's technically the morning already, but military drills are nothing to them now. Even when they wake up to the distant sound of the quarantine intercom. The same monotonous lady announcing that it's 06:00, the time for drafted citizens to report to the assembly line. Time like _that_ is as pointless as the gossip magazines Daichi and Suga step across before taking off for their two-day adventure.

The bandaged bite stings with reminders of Suga's fate, and despite his efforts in trying to enjoy his last two days, he is only waiting for his turn. Waiting for the moment he will turn and ultimately be met with a bullet to his head.

Suga watches his last two days as a human pass.

But two days turn into a week. Unturned.

Then a week turns into months.

And then soon, years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Dinosaur - Fog Lake](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m5hHXKIg8oY)
> 
> I guess you could view the songs I put at the end of each chapter as an outro. Feel free to comment below what you took of this chapter!


	2. Autumn Sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Daichi finds interacting with Suga during autumn similar to trying to give affection to a cactus. It's all just prickles and utter confusion._

**[4 Years Later - Fall, Year 58; Post-Apocalypse]**

The rifle makes a clamorous thud when Kuroo slams it on the table by Daichi, with the intention to startle the latter. But nonplussed apathy is stubbornly fixed on Daichi's face, and it simmers a feeling of unaccomplished dismay inside Kuroo.

"This is about the fifth one you've asked for in two months." Arms fold across Kuroo's chest with a downward glower pinned on Daichi. "What happened to the other ones?"

It is a quarter till noon, and the sun is perfectly aligned in the sky to pour a sickly yellow hue through the window of the abandoned building. The weather nearby Tokyo always receives the dregs of Mother Nature's colors, such as dejected blue skies and harrowing grey evenings. Especially in the fall when the streets are drenched with melancholy, to which Kuroo's moods are evidently affected by whenever he's on patrol. Therefore his soured disposition does not go unnoticed when he and Daichi meet for a trade.

There's even an irritable glow in his golden eyes when they narrow at the brunette for an answer to his query.

"Let's just say that the last trade takes the cake for one of the worst shipments we've had to date." Daichi's eyes trace around the rifle, but he does not touch it. A sigh rumbles in his throat when the memory of the trade recircles his mind. "The client showed up, _not alone_ , and had us at our knees. Then they took off with _all_ of our rifles in stock. All except one."

"One should be enough for two people." A frown pinches between Kuroo's brows.

"It's not." Daichi remains firm with his words. "Clearly. That's why I'm here."

The guile smirk slanting on Kuroo's face conveys that he doesn't buy what Daichi is selling. But no lies are being told, at least not yet.

"And I'm supposed to just _believe_ that you let them rob you?" A pretentious pitch levels in Kuroo's tone as his shoulders sway into a disbelieving shrug.

"It was a frontloaded attack. We were outnumbered."

"I've seen you take down a dozen men back when we were trainees." Kuroo remains skeptical. "I'm sure you would've taken any fight to your grave."

Daichi's jaw twists into a clench when he feels a grimace creep up his back. "Well, I'm not lying. And you brought the gun anyway."

Kuroo hunches a touch forward to narrow in on Daichi's grave expression. "And if you want it, then gimme a _really_ good reason as to why I should give it without further question."

"You? Without further question?" Daichi cracks a lopsided grin with sarcastic jest. "Do you even know yourself?"

"Or I _could_ just take it back." Kuroo's hand hovers over the rifle with a taunting threat.

The jest in Daichi's eyes diminishes to contemplatively purse his lips at the action. Kuroo's stubborn temperament is an intractable task that Daichi can never get around.

"I reckon if you're good with numbers, one rifle doesn't quite cut it as full merchandise. And judging by our _situation_ , we only _have_ one rifle. So be glad I didn't ask for a whole load of them by today." The increasing grit in Daichi's tone slews a fine drop of annoyance in the other male. "Satisfied?"

Kuroo merely huffs an amused chuckle, clearly _un_ satisfied. "Cute reason."

"It's an honest one." Daichi finally utters a lie.

"This is a _rifle,_ Sawamura. One rifle in itself can _be_ the whole damn merchandise. Do you know how hard it is to find rifles just lying around like weeds? Pretty hard if you ask me." Kuroo's sigh is deadpan when he runs an idle hand through raven bedhead hair.

"And yet _you_ manage," Daichi mumbles.

"Yeah. Sure." The flagrant stare in Kuroo's eyes burns with contempt. "I _'manage'._ If that's what you wanna bring it down to."

"Look, what I do with any contraband I have is _my_ business. Therefore what does _my_ business have to do with _you_?" Daichi's remark sends a face of disdain to furl onto Kuroo's features.

"What does it have to do with me? Oh _please_ , Sawamura, it has _everything_ to do with me." Kuroo's attitude drips bitterly from his tone. "I'm stealing straight from the military's inventory for _your_ needy ass. And if I'm going to keep risking my damn life for this shit, there better be a good reason for it. Because if Corporal fuck-face or anyone else at the base busts me for this deal we have going here, I'm dragging _your_ ass down with me."

Sincerity is blazed into Kuroo's low-pitched tone as he points an accusatory finger at Daichi's chest. The building creaks beneath their feet, and so do the ill-colored walls that enclose the pair into obscurity just outside the Tokyo quarantine. If Kuroo wants, he could march back into quarantine walls and send troops to bust Daichi's ass, bringing veracity to the threat he had just imposed on the latter.

The brunette's jaw clenches disconcertedly at the awareness of this fact. "Fair. I won't request for a while then." Daichi nods his head in reluctant agreement in order to appease the indignance in Kuroo's stare. "And if you still want that good reason, I'll give it to you. The real one."

"It would be greatly appreciated."

Daichi hates the pleased smirk on Kuroo's face. "I've been in a wild jam with those _things_. It's hard fending off a pack of clickers when only one out of a pair has a rifle."

"Wild guess on who had the rifle?"

The subtle grunt from Daichi affirms Kuroo's unspoken suspicion.

"Yeah, I knew you were talking a load of shit when you gave me that merchandise excuse." Right at the start, Kuroo could tell without a hitch. "I know Sugawara has probably become a damn master at avoiding clickers, but he won't last long from just running. Someday he'll come across a clicker faster than him, and he won't be able to use a 9mm to shoot the bastard through all that fungi."

"Why don't _you_ try telling him that? Because God knows I try, Kuroo. Any chance I get." Daichi's fingers rub away the tension between his eyes. "' _Too much noise'_ he says. He's so anal about silence that sometimes I even catch myself refraining from breathing too hard. Since that time we..."

Daichi pulls his words back in before they reveal too much. A tilting head from the raven-haired male inquires at Daichi's sudden cut-off, but he is not assuaged by the latter's response.

"...I asked for the rifle because of him. It's for _him._ " Daichi continues past his words without a stutter. It's almost as if he never stumbled with them in the first place.

"Stop trying to be so cryptic about Sugawara," Kuroo grumbles annoyingly. "I know who it is every time."

The two's underground affiliation is not enough to convince Daichi into saying Suga's name so easily. Kuroo's association with the military still has Daichi cautious of bringing the captain's missing son into the conversation.

"If you already know, then I don't see the need to clarify." Daichi narrows his eyes into a droning stare. "You seem to be able to put it together just fine on your own."

"Uh-huh. Putting it together on my own..." Kuroo mutters embitteringly. "At least you don't think I'm a _complete_ dumbass. It's almost a compliment."

"Compliment?" Daichi finds himself on the brink of amusement with the crooked smile on his face. "I was _complimenting_ you?" The incredulity of Daichi's voice climbs to a condescending tone that Kuroo thoroughly does not enjoy.

"Oh _ha-ha_. Let a guy dream of praise." The scowl returns to Kuroo's features in defense. "Although, speaking of Sugawara, where the hell is he? Haven't seen him _once_ since that time we found you guys straggling around the QZ."

Kuroo settles himself down on a chair beside them. His fingers work at cracking his knuckles, each one popping a noise into the expectant silence between them.

"No reason." Daichi spits out another lie.

"No reason?" Kuroo outright laughs at the transparency in Daichi's words. "Since when did you become so shitty at telling lies?"

"At least I changed into something other than. I see you're still the same asshole as before." Annoyance peppers down Daichi's face when he speaks. "And I've already told you to stop asking about him."

Daichi reaches for the rifle that has become his silent gesture of ending the conversation. But an opposing hand from the other lands on the firearm to prevent Daichi from doing so. When the latter's gaze meets the other, he finds Kuroo's features darkened with a crass raise of his brow.

"I'm doing you a favor every time we meet. Guns, bullets, first aid, whatever you seem to be in the mood for." Kuroo has made it a habit to paint himself as a charitable angel in the dark. If it weren't for Kuroo's temperamental jackassery, perhaps Daichi would actually agree with said image.

"Don't act like this is a one-sided _donation_ you're making here. I still get you shit from outside the walls," Daichi says with an unceremonious look blinking up and down Kuroo's hand on the rifle. "And I have other clients. You're not as much of a savior as you think you are."

Kuroo's jaw visibly clenches. "Well, I still deserve to ask about an old friend of mine. Can't deny that I do pull some awfully risky stunts in order to get you what you need." The soldier's lips part to show an overbearingly cocky grin. "That composite bow and arrow set that I got for you guys. If he refuses to use a rifle, then I can assume that that's what he slings around? It keeps him alive, doesn't it?"

The bow _does_ keep Suga alive since it's what he stubbornly uses, and Daichi hates that his consequent silence credits to Kuroo's claim. Because it means that Daichi _does_ owe Kuroo more than he wants to let on.

Daichi skims out a weighted sigh and draws his reaching hand back to relent to Kuroo's insistence on the matter. "Fine. What do you wanna know?" He begrudgingly lets in. "Just know I have the right to be dishonest."

Satisfaction bores through the unveiled smirk on Kuroo's lips. "No need to warn me, because you've already been dishonest up until this point." He gestures for Daichi to sit down across from him, but Daichi bitterly refuses. "But I guess we all have our secrets."

Daichi has become a man of solemn mystery since the last time he and Kuroo were affiliated as teenagers. With the undisguised curiosity of a cat, Kuroo's prodding questions have never gotten past Daichi, nor have they ever ceased. It's the first time Daichi is willing to give more than just a dismissive grunt or obscure answer to Kuroo's inquiries.

"I get your guys' deal being smugglers.. or _suppliers_ \--" Kuroo air quotes his fingers. "--it's all the same thing. But why not do business within the quarantine? Ain't that easier?"

"How ironic of you to say that." Daichi lowers his gaze at Kuroo's military uniform. It's the same leathery grey and black bulletproof vest as years before. "A soldier asking a smuggler to smuggle _inside_ quarantine." A chuckle breaks out on Daichi's face, and it looks foreign on his unsmiling expression.

"You're the only smuggler I've come across who I haven't sent to prosecution." A considering shrug goes up and down Kuroo's shoulders. "Consider yourself more than lucky, having an emotional obligation out of me and all."

"Uh-huh. Though I have no doubt you'd take me straight there the moment I do something to fuck you over somehow." Daichi drones with a dour face. "As you mentioned, you'll _drag my ass down with you_."

"But I like to think I'm pretty secure on my end because I know you won't pull any stupid shit on me. You're someone who will blindly honor _any_ promise as long you receive some kind of benefit." Kuroo snickers out a snide smirk that silently unnerves Daichi's pride. "Sawamura Daichi, formerly the most promising to-be soldiers in our year. The one with diamond loyalty and unfailing leadership for all his comrades."

Irony expresses through Kuroo's small mirthless grin before saying, "Until he deserted, that is."

"You think we are still comrades?" Daichi huffs a ridiculing grin as he crosses his arms. "Then I think _I_ should be pretty secure on my end too. Given that you're weak for anyone you remotely consider a 'comrade'."

"Just answer the question." The mischief in Kuroo's golden eyes finally extinguishes with impatience, and he acts as if the last comment didn't have any searing effect on his pride.

Daichi murmurs a witty retort, but he generously keeps it to himself. "Smuggling contraband within quarantine requires living in the quarantine, doesn't it?"

"So why don't you?" Kuroo shrugs simply.

"Don't you think we would if we could? Or _wanted_?" Daichi's tone is sharp like an accusatory blade. "We have circumstances that prevent us."

"Like?" Kuroo's hand does a circular gesture to encourage elaboration. "If you're worried about ration cards, I can cover for you, easy."

Grinding teeth bite back Daichi's silent aggravation. "No, I'm not worried about _ration cards_. Everyone knows the military holds it for themselves anyway." He drives the heel of his foot against the floor in discomfort as Kuroo observes the action with a flickered gaze down. "And I'd rather not say the circumstance."

"Quite the time for you to finally decide on being honest," Kuroo mumbles disappointingly. Daichi expects him to prod on the subject but is pleasantly surprised when Kuroo skims past to another question. "Why'd you desert back in Sendai?"

Kuroo's slack posture against the chair produces an angled look in his eyes.

Throughout the year since the two started doing business, Daichi is surprised that this is the first time Kuroo has asked about his desertion. "We were tired of it. The military, I mean."

"We all were. You guys weren't special." Sour spite edges Kuroo's tone the moment his golden eyes start to narrow.

"Yet we were the only ones to actually leave." Daichi finally seats himself at the table across from Kuroo and leans in with an inspecting glare. "Don't tell me you're actually _happy_ being in that uniform."

The direct remark prompts Kuroo to shift disconcertedly in his seat. He inhales a thoughtful breath as if he's brewing up a response to give Daichi, whether it be honest or not.

"I think what we have here--" Kuroo gestures between the two of them. "--already suggests what my answer is."

"Then why are you always so bitter?" Daichi is never afraid to call Kuroo out on his shit in a carping tone. "I didn't force you to help me with my deals. You're the one who stuck your ass in while I was out making a shipment."

"I was doing my job too, okay? And now look. I can't back out of our deal, can I?" Kuroo shakes his head with an empty lopsided grin. The uncharacteristically weak-willed statement from Kuroo silently pisses Daichi off more than it should.

"Never forced you then, not forcing you now. You're just going soft." Daichi grits out before realizing how false his words actually are, and he breathes out a deflated chuckle. "Except you have a good idea of the tunnels, so maybe you can't back out."

Unwarranted spite rushes up to Kuroo's face through a furrowing brow. "Look, I don't care about the smugglers' tunnels that maze in and out of quarantine. I'll only start caring once your little deals start undermining the ration system. You know how petty that shit is to deal with?"

"Rations aren't my problem." An uninterested stare rolls around Daichi's eyes.

"They'll _start_ being your problem once you mess with it. Then I'll haul your ass to prosecution." Kuroo quicks a finger across his throat. "Then you'll be deader than those bastards out there."

Bastard has become a reoccurring name Kuroo uses to refer to the infected. It has also become a baseline for his vile name-calling, where being called a bastard by Kuroo has worse meaning than him telling someone to go burn in the depths of hell.

"Is that all? Or can I go?" Daichi can feel a persuasion starting to form on the reticent glare of Kuroo's feline eyes. But Daichi only stares back with an apathetic one boring through his irises. "I don't know what you're tryna pry out of me. I just wanted a damn rifle."

"I'm allowed to be curious."

"But not nosy." Daichi scans Kuroo's eyes for any shame, but he finds none. "You're as shameless as a stupid cat. Go ahead and just say what you're _really_ tryna get out of this. It's uncharacteristic for you to be apprehensive."

A pleased grin wipes all traces of patience off Kuroo's face and replaces it with an audacious ambiance.

"The military probably isn't looking for you guys anymore," Kuroo draws up the same case that he has been attempting to convince Daichi of for the xth time, and he observes the visible dismay casting down Daichi's face. "It's been four years, Sawamura. So what? You guys were just a couple of teenagers. Do you really think the military will spend precious years looking for a pair of deserted _teenagers-_ -"

"I bet my entire _life_ that they've quit looking for me, but they're still looking for Suga. To them, Suga is not just _a teenager_ who deserted on a whim and you _know that_. They have a special rein on him." Daichi's voice is tense with chastened venom lowing in the growls of his throat. "We _can't_ live inside quarantine. Even if Suga's circumstance was out of the factor, we are not burrowing ourselves into oppression."

Kuroo's suggestion for them to live in quarantine will never work no matter how simple it may appear. Suga would not even be given the opportunity to step inside the walls of the quarantine since his thermal scan for the infection always turns up positive.

All Kuroo wants is an out on his business with Daichi, and bringing him and Suga to live within quarantine will give him peace of mind on cutting their deals off. The raven-haired soldier cares about his old friends, but never will he ever say it aloud.

Well aware of Kuroo's stubborn temperament, Daichi gets up with a hand on the rifle. But again, Kuroo slides the rifle away with an unwavering stare.

"If you'd just tell me what else is up with Sugawara, I might be able to help you." Kuroo's expression is stone with a knowing look, and it rocks Daichi's composure like an unsteady tide. Bluffing is one of Kuroo's special knacks, and Daichi can't tell if he's using that knack to mislead Daichi into submission.

"There _is_ nothing else," Daichi growls with a little more aggravation than he prefers.

"Won't believe it till I see it," Kuroo persists. "I can _help_ if you would just allow it."

Feeling Kuroo's grip tighten on the rifle prompts Daichi to do the same. "It's beyond your help." Daichi grits out.

"Nice to know you believe in me." Kuroo scoffs bitterly.

"This isn't about believing each other, okay? I am not here to rekindle an old friendship." The cold austerity of Daichi's tone is colder than the look he is driving Kuroo's way. "This is about business. Do I have to say it again? Maybe with more feeling?"

For once, Kuroo's golden eyes are dressed with shame, but not for himself.

"Tch. Good luck trying to conduct sole business when we are tethered to the same past." A sneering click sounds through Kuroo's gritted teeth like a clock. "Because if you expect me to not be a concerned friend when you reappear after four years of being presumed dead, and then expect me to not be offended when you tell me it's just _business_ after all those years of training like comrades, then I expect _you_ to not feel betrayed the next time you step out of the North Tunnel with the FEDRA ready to noose you _._ "

The afternoon sun is not ablaze today, but there is evident heat vicing a grip on Daichi's throat. "Go ahead, call the prosecution on me! Just you wait and I'll hand them all the missing inventory you stole from them in order to give _me._ " Daichi gives one last pull and pries the rifle out of Kuroo's hand. "Because guess what, Kuroo. If I get busted, I'm dragging _your_ ass down with me too."

Boiling shock renders Kuroo silent with a disdainful scowl, but he doesn't retort or rise angrily as expected. Instead, he glares harsh daggers at Daichi with stifled rage hiding in his eyes. He's aware of the veracious nature of Daichi's words and finds himself unable to speak against it.

Daichi returns one last askance look before bending down to lift the thick wooden board that covers the entrance of the North Tunnel. He takes the rifle's strap over his shoulder along with the conversation that leaves them both feeling taut with unspoken anger.

Daichi hovers over the entrance to point a hesitating look at Kuroo. "Next shipment, this weekend. Same place. I'll have the pills for you." The words are uncomfortable within the tense atmosphere between the two, and Daichi expects no response.

But Kuroo gives him one when he scoffs with a mirthless chuckle. "You're a bastard, Daichi." His tone lacks disgust and is instead filled with a cynical type of amusement. "Would've fit right in with the military."

With gritted teeth and a disregarding attitude, Daichi inaudibly curses under his breath so the other doesn't hear.

"That's why you became a soldier, Kuroo. Cause you're a bastard too."

\--

The sky is grim with grey clouds, and its raw colors are hypnotizing with variations of dreary monotony dressing the streets.

The fall season is one of the easiest for scavenging. Suga is not drowning in winter coats nor is he raining with sweat when he searches around the stretches of grass-grown towns.

But spring is the most gratifying season to scavenge in, with its sprouts of nature blooming on the road and tall debris-ridden buildings. Fall is where the colors start retiring to a grey and brown hue, painting the streets with bleak strokes of humdrum tones. It makes scavenging all the eerier.

 _At least it's not winter_. Suga thinks begrudgingly.

Nimble fingers tremble against the feathery fletching of an arrow. Suga draws his breath in to mimic the pace of his hand pulling the arrow back on the bowstring, and the tip of his finger steadies the metal head at the nock. His head peers in with a tipping neck and squinted eye that hones in on the target ahead.

An oblivious hare nibbles quietly at the grass, completely unaware of the arrowhead preparing to bore a hole into its skull.

With the last tremble on Suga's wrist steadying for a nick of a second, he releases the arrow just as the breeze swallows with stillness. The wind-piercing shot barrels across the street and plunges itself into the hare's eye, staking it into the crack of the sidewalk just beside it. The arrow is silent without a whistle, with the exception of the bowstring sparking a slight sting on Suga's forearm.

Despite being dressed in a jacket, the prickly sensation has casual curses slipping out of the male's lips. Suga stands from his post behind an abandoned pub window to stare onto the bare road that screams of devoid presence.

Devoid presence is always a pleasing consequence whenever an arrow rips silently through the air. Something that is impossible with the raucous blast of a gun. It draws a sense of fleeting serenity into Suga, but he makes sure not to indulge in it for too long.

His shoulders shudder with potent anxiety at the thought of being caught off-guard when he least expects it. But the terror of being chased into a state of impotent danger does a different deal to the pit in Suga's empty stomach.

 _Not again_. Suga thinks as he acknowledges the scarred bite on his left shoulder with a pat. If it ever comes down to it, he's got his 9mm at his side with extra ammo that he makes sure is always at hand.

Light feet hop over the window to carry Suga towards the limp hare lying in splatters of its own blood. "I'm sorry, buddy," he mumbles with guilty grief in his voice. "I hope you didn't have a family."

The raw stench of blood fumes from the arrow shaft that is now coated in a scarlet color when Suga pulls it out. In quick, wary motions, he stashes the dirtied arrow into his backpack and bags the carcass into a burlap sack that is strung beside him.

A quick scan of his cautious eyes sweeps across the scope of the nature-grown roads. His sight grazes over abandoned cars that are sprouting with vines and aged with rust. Trees grow prosperously on roads that are consumed in a faded autumn green, and barricades of broken-down machinery are sprinkled around town.

Every passing year, Mother Nature reclaims more of her land that mankind had stripped away with concrete roads and skyscraping buildings. But now mankind is at its knees, scraping by every day under the relentless influence of dire survival, while Mother Nature triumphs in its recovered beauty.

The somber road is drenched in a silence that Suga has learned to never trust. It prompts him to discard his consideration to venture farther out and possibly into bandit territory. Suga would need Daichi in order to handle a large gang like that.

The wind whistles like a fragile whisper, and it stirs a soft rustle into the surrounding leaves. Taking it as nature's premonition for the worst, Suga turns to take himself back where he had initially come from.

The journey back is undisturbed with an unfitting silence looming over Suga's head. Apprehension never fully lifts off his shoulders, and it has him feeling discomfit within the layers of his own skin. The sensation is only amplified by the season of autumn that annually lowers its eerie influence onto Suga. It morphs his usual disposition into a paranoid one, and it happens concurrently whenever summer ends and fall begins.

Therefore silence is never as comforting as it should be.

It pushes Suga to listen to the soft scuffles of his feet against the ground, making sure that the steps he is listening to are not from someone else.

After about a quarter-hour stalk across the ghosted town, Suga reaches the row of uniform townhouses where his and Daichi's hideout is located. Three stories of grey-streaked homes line the street in an obscure fashion, with boards shielding every other window to the point that no one pays special attention to any particular home.

Their hideout is enclosed within the last two homes at the end of the wire-gated street, claiming the top floors of both homes, and the second floor of the one adjacent to the far-ended townhome.

There are two ways to enter their hideout: one way is through the third-floor door of the far ended home that has a linear climb of metal stairs. The first flight is missing, therefore a jump up is to be made in order to go in that way. The exit faces the direction of the North Tunnel, which makes it convenient for Daichi, who travels through it frequently. The other way is through the backyard of the adjacent townhome that has a tripwire rigging a liquor bottle to drop when it's budged with.

The shatter of the bottle against echoey wooden floors is enough to wake Daichi and Suga in the case of an intruder or infected. It's also a way for them to tell if someone has trespassed while the pair are gone for a shipment. They make do with whatever security they can manage, but never take it as a guarantee of their safety.

Suga slips in through a bundle of shrubs raking across his skin when he makes a climb over the wooden fence. The dry earthen dirt makes a stiff crunch under the landing of his light feet, and for the first time in a while, Suga stumbles amongst himself. An innocent smile resolves around his lips as he lightly laughs at his expense.

Approaching the tripwired window mindlessly, Suga prepares to slink over like a cautious panther stalking through foreign territory. But he pauses when his thread-sharp eyes are unable to spot the subtle shine of the wire against the rot-darkened floors.

A thudding sense of alarm creeps up the back of Suga's neck like a swift fever. He looms over the opening of the window and spots the liquor bottle crystallized into pieces on the floor. It's scattered across the greyed wood, almost without notice. But the sharp corners of each shard glints under Suga's shadow like crisp twinkles of dust.

Vigilant eyes dart like bullets around the house before doing a survey around the yard. Suga's back no longer feels safe, and it burns with ominous vulnerability as if his bare skin is facing the heat of summer.

A plan starts to devise in his head with no articulate ends coming to meet. He briefly considers waiting for Daichi, but completely disregards the plan since Suga has no bright clue where the former has ventured off for the day. It'd be a blind and timeless wait if he was foolish enough to think that he has the patience for it.

Fierce annoyance pulses in Suga's temple when he dwells on Daichi's awfully bad habit of leaving in the morning without a word of where he's off to. It has happened enough times for Suga to not be stirred with panic, but rather with anger whenever he wakes up to find the other side of the bed empty.

But one thing is for sure: Daichi almost never leaves through the tripwire window, dedicating all his exits to the third-floor door that faces the direction of the North Tunnel. The possibility of Daichi accidentally setting the wire off is highly unlikely unless he was feeling spontaneous.

And Daichi is never spontaneous.

Suga stiffs out a grumbled breath when he hops over the window. He retrieves the handgun from his side, and his spine stiffens with grappling composure when he makes his way up the spiral staircase to the hideout.

The top of the staircase has a short metal gate that mirrors the color of the faded black steps just underneath it. Snapped wooden stakes are tied by wires to the top bars, with its jagged spikes shooting upwards into the air. Its needlepoint edges have pricked Suga's finger too many times to count, leaving splinters burrowing deep into his fingertips like a buried treasure. Suga begrudgingly finds himself spending an afternoon every now and then, attempting to tweeze the hairs of timber out of his skin.

Suga's heart goes through thumping turbulence when he finds the gate wide open as if it is greeting him an inviting welcome. A fresh rake of blood on one of the jagged spikes draws Suga's attention in quick, along with a vibrating rumble of anxiety that stirs through his ribs in a flash of heat.

The gate makes restless noise when Suga pushes it closed (with much caution to avoid another splinter attack), and he cringes in deep harrowing fear for the worst. But he hears no consequent screech of the infected, nor does he hear the thumps of feet scurrying to hide or retreat.

Still not convinced of his own safety, Suga grips the handgun with both hands and holds it down beside himself. He musters as much composure as he can until his knuckles whiten with a wrenching grip.

The second-floor parlor has nothing but the usual furniture it houses: sandy-brown couches, a crippled coffee table that has not one steady leg, and a lamp that provides solo light in the room during the night. Nothing foreign.

Making his way from the gate, Suga turns to the hall that is the direct left of him. It's ominously dark with only one pane of light from the window at the end of the hall. The translucent light of the afternoon sky is flattened to a foggy white that bears no reflection whenever someone walks past. The bathroom is dark with solitude, but Suga checks behind the curtain of the non-functioning shower just for peace of mind. His and Daichi's room is also clear of any intruders, with their double bed still unmade like every routine morning.

The second floor is clear, but Suga does not feel the least bit comfortable yet.

Back in the second-floor parlor, there is an atrociously steep staircase in the corner adjacent to the hall Suga has just cleared. With wide and flat steps, the staircase is made up of sheer thick planks that are so vertical to each other that it could be considered a ladder upon first glance.

Each step creaks under the weight of agile feet, with each one rocking a thrumming beat against the fibers of Suga's blaring heart. The room he enters was given the name 'joint' since it connects the second-floor parlor and the supply room on the third floor. A wall that once separated the joint and the supply room now bears a hole that acts as an entryway between the two rooms. This provides Suga with an almost complete visual of the entire floor the moment he reaches the top of the stairs.

In the direction of the supply room, a tenuous shuffle is heard like a stealthy wind. It's soft and scuffled against a walled surface like the mistaken stumble of someone's feet. The hairs at Suga's neck prickle up in one sweep of expectant danger, but suspense continues to rattle along when the shuffle is followed by blank silence.

Cautiously treading feet approach the closed door of the vestibule that leads out into the balcony facing north. An attentive ear hovers over the metal door while heavy lead-like apprehension makes a searing hot journey down Suga's back. Each exhaling breath staggers with an attempt at remaining as quiet as possible, and each inhale contains a tepid tremor.

Imminent danger is realized when Suga finally hears the studied sound of someone stumbling against the wall on the other side.

Hesitation vaporizes out of Suga's system, and he bursts the door open with a brunt ache of his shoulder ensuing afterward. Walls shake with surprise, and the doorknob collides into the wall with a strident _clack!_

It almost makes Suga believe that he already fired his gun when he aims it at the first entity he spots in the room.

"Christ almighty!" Daichi visibly jumps back as his hands immediately raise at the sight of a gun being pointed square in his face. His expression twists into fierce surprise before softening with recognition. "What the fuck-- Suga, it's just me... put it down."

The hell of anxiety that was cooking inside Suga finally capsizes into blissful relief. A cathartic sigh breaks from the seams of his lips, and his armed hand goes limp at his side with features loosening from its tight expression just moments before.

"God, you scared the crap outta me." Suga sweeps out another sigh as his eyes close with security.

" _I_ scared _you_?" Daichi closes the balcony door behind him. "Did you not just _see_ what unfolded?" Articulate brown eyes discern the bow at Suga's shoulder, and the spiked metal pipe slung on a strap beside his backpack. "Where were you? Did you go out?"

"Excuse me, don't ask me where _I_ was when you left this morning without telling me _again_." Suga unstrings the burlap sack from his side without breaking his askance glare towards the other male. "And I went out because I needed to gather something for our next shipment."

"Does that include a dead animal?" Daichi stares down at the sack inquisitively.

"You think people in quarantine would want a dead animal?" Suga chuckles, but not with amusement. He pockets the handgun before running his tremor-recovering hands down his face. "You could've at least left a note or something like _I_ do all the time--" Suga's sharp eyes spot the extra rifle at Daichi's shoulder, and his brows furrow with discontent. "Why do you have that?"

"I paid Kuroo a visit." Daichi's hand grips at the strap upon recollecting their unpleasant meeting. "We needed another one."

"It can go with the merchandise because I don't need it." Suga turns away to leave Daichi behind in the vestibule, but the latter follows him into the supply room.

"Bull- _shit,_ I'm not allowing you to protest."

"Yeah, I know," Suga drones gravelly without sparing Daichi the bitter look on his face. "Daichi knows best, isn't that right?" He sets down his bow with a purposeful thud on the table.

"I just know that you're gonna get killed with that stubborn attitude you have."

"Huh, funny. Wanna talk about getting killed? Yeah, let's talk about getting killed." Suga turns back to see Daichi returning an embittering stare. "How bout you walk your talk by not leaving whenever you please. _Alone_ and _without telling me where you're off to._ "

"At least I'm going out with proper weapons."

"That doesn't make you immortal." Suga's scoff is a touch piteous. "Even someone like _you_ can die, Daichi."

The equivocal emphasis on _you_ leaves Daichi serrated with rebounding agitation.

"I manage, and I'm capable." Daichi steps up to the desk where Suga stands and places the rifle by the latter's backpack on the desktop. The flagrant clatter the rifle makes against the surface makes Suga grimace with spite.

Suga stares at the firearm grudgingly before redirecting the daggers of his eyes at the other male. "I manage, and _I'm_ capable too." Suga bites out.

Daichi breaks away and lets out a subdued sigh that rumbles up a storm in the room. The following silence feels suffocatingly thick, and it prompts Suga to comply with it. He'll let Daichi simmer in his own anger since Suga doesn't feel like saying anything to relent their tense situation.

It has been like this for a while between them.

Suga remains wordless with his own frustrations when he flips out his switchblade. He prepares to drive it into a sealed box of food that they received from a group of smugglers during their last trade.

But he stops when he finds it already torn open.

"Also, what in the flying hell was that back there?" An expressive hand from Daichi gestures back at the vestibule.

Unanswering, Suga's eyes do what feels like the millionth time that day: a dart around his surroundings. Searching eyes discover the same tear in other boxes on the floor. Boxes that Suga undoubtedly knows that neither he or Daichi have torn into yet.

Through the quick hops of Suga's eyes, Daichi is able to see the gears turning in the other's head. "What's wrong?" The agitation in Daichi's tone appropriately dips into concern.

"I..." Suga's voice trails with no means of articulation. But two links in his head finally meet with clarity, and he remembers the broken liquor bottle, the wide-open gate, and bloodied spike.

Having been so caught up with his irritation towards Daichi, the circumstance of their violated home had slipped from Suga's mind completely.

"Suga," Daichi calls out as he observes Suga shuffling through their supplies on the floor with a searching gaze. Unsteady pumps of blood course through Daichi's veins nervously. "Stop with the suspense."

"Our tripwire was set off." Suga's eyes finally meet Daichi's in wide realization, and all traces of bitterness are abandoned. "That's... why I came in like that." Suga nods towards the vestibule in reference.

"Well don't you think that should be the first thing to be said?" The rile in Daichi's voice starts sinking back in.

"I couldn't help but get really irritated the moment I saw your face." Suga deadpans. "Because you've been stepping all over my nerves lately."

"Not this again..."

"Don't ' _not this again'_ me. If anything, I should be saying that!" Suga rises as the apples of his cheeks start blushing with repressed aggravation. His eyes crinkle at the corners with, not a smile, but a reproving scowl.

"We'll talk about this later." Daichi's dismissive attitude is making a comeback, much to Suga's great dismay.

"You always say that--"

"Just tell me about the tripwire!" Daichi's voice is more impatient with its tone today, and the male is holding Kuroo responsible for acting as a precursor of agitation. "Where were _you_ and what happened?"

Rigid shoulders tense up beside Suga as if he is being held together by a constricting rope. His expression is no different with its increasing tension glowering towards the browns of Daichi's eyes. But Suga lets out a sharp sigh and complies with the demand.

"I woke up, didn't see you there again. So I decided to go out on my own to find those seeds for our next shipment." Suga pulls out a small pouch from his pocket to show Daichi. "Pretty easy, so I also decided to go hunting to... I don't know, let off some steam." He tosses the pouch over to the desk beside the wall.

"Okay, and the wire."

"The wire was gone when I tried stepping over it, and the bottle was broken on the floor."

"And the gate?"

"The gate was wide open. Latch undone and everything."

An uncertain plan spins webs through the look in Daichi's eyes. His usually slack shoulders are now mannered in a disconcerting way when one of his hands go to rest at his hip, with the other picking at his bottom lip nervously.

"Is the place clear?" Daichi finally aims an inquiring look at Suga.

"It is. I swept the whole place." Suga looks down at their supplies with a muted glare. "Though I'm not doubtful that someone perused by."

Daichi joins Suga in shuffling through their boxes and drawers of food, ammunition, and first aid supplies. With the least expectation, their food supply was barely stolen from. It was barely skimmed off from the top, but the real damage was done to their ammunition.

Their drawer full of it is completely stripped empty.

"Shit... completely wiped it clean..." Daichi slams the desolate drawer closed. The sound of metal clashing against itself elicits a startled twitch from Suga. "What a great turn out."

Suga casts his gaze down piteously as he closes the vacant drawer that once contained their first aid supplies. That drawer was also wiped clean.

"Maybe Kuroo can-"

"We can't rely on him." Daichi shakes his head as he gets up to pace around the room. "I- no. We're both just sick of each other, that bastard and I..."

"He's one of our most useful clients." Suga's hand reaches for the green liquor bottle that sits in the corner to collect dust. "Because he's a soldier. You realize how much supply he has access to?"

But Daichi does not return an answer, and compliance urges Suga to say no more. Silence is supposed to be comfortable, especially after four years of living with someone and knowing them for more. Yet it's instead left hanging in the air, spreading tense discomfort between the two. But they feign an unattentive attitude towards the tension despite both of them sharing the same suffocation from it.

When Suga grabs the roll of tripwire from the desk drawer, he finds that the handgun in there is also missing.

But no words of this news does Suga even say to Daichi, who already has frustration curled around the forefront of his mind. It's slowly building into a tense state of constant stress with insomnia, the changing season, and now the robbery, piled into leeching resentment. Their arguments are certainly not going unnoticed either.

Autumn tends to bring about the rocky roads of their relationship as if the spark temporarily falls apart, just like nature and its vegetation during that time of year.

"I'll go replace the bottle and clean it up." Suga's voice is subdued under the blanket of tense silence between them.

"Okay," Daichi says tersely into his hand as he listens to Suga's receding footsteps heading downstairs.

Silence has never felt more cursed in Daichi's life, and every movement he makes when he gets up from the couch is spoiled with discomfort. Their hideout's feeling of home is slowly starting to digress into something foreign, and with the home that Daichi finds in Suga beginning to make its routine gloom, Daichi inevitably feels himself starting to lose touch with his sense of home.

Autumn sickness. It's what Daichi has started calling it in his head.

During the autumn, starting from the moment green leaves begin washing out into grey skies, Suga starts feeling like a gloomy home. Suga is who he is, regardless of the season, but he airs a whole other demeanor during this time of year. An obstinate one especially.

Daichi finds interacting with Suga during autumn similar to trying to give affection to a cactus. It's all just prickles and utter confusion.

But as embittered Daichi is about the whole autumn ordeal, and as much as he knows Suga feels the same, Daichi never finds himself sick of Suga. The _sickness_ part of 'autumn sickness' is never in regards to the other male. Because no matter how somber Suga can become, he still draws Daichi in the same way.

Therefore the latter sighs down at the note he finds placed on the desk beside the vestibule door. Guilt has never felt so rotten in his soul until now.

_Went out to gather for our next shipment (seeds because that botanist is offering MORPHINE and you know how happy that will make our hunter clients at our next shipment with them)._  
_I'll be back soon. I hate you for leaving without telling me again but whatever._  
_I just hope you're still alive once I get back._

Meanwhile, all the fall season does is make Daichi an inconsiderate dick.

\--

The blackout curtains beside the bed are drawn open to the moonlight. A ray of silvery-blue cuts a beam into the dark-swamped room, and it paints Suga's back as an ambiguous shadow from the doorway where Daichi stands.

"You asleep?" Daichi's voice tapers softly through the room like a vibrating wave.

Suga does not stir from the position on his side. Unable to tell if he is either blatantly ignoring Daichi or if he's asleep, the brunette saunters to the edge of the bed.

"At least sleep _under_ the covers. It's starting to get cold."

Goosebumps litter across Suga's bare arm like bubbles. His red flannel jacket and grey canvas shoes are discarded on the chilled floor, leaving him in his dark blue jeans and black henley shirt that once belonged to Daichi. It fits loosely on Suga's back unless Daichi presses a finger against it to trace his touch down the former's vertebrae.

The covers are thick with a wiry type of fleece that doesn't provide the best comfort, but it does provide adequate warmth. Daichi sits beside Suga on the bed and watches his breaths show itself through a calm rise and fall of his chest.

Ashen-grey hair is soft to the touch when Daichi's fingers give a single run down the other's locks. A small reaction ensues through a slight twitch at Suga's shoulder, communicating a small shiver going down his back.

Daichi chuckles amusingly. "You're awake, aren't you?"

No response.

"Are you still mad?" The question is ridiculously pointless because Daichi already knows the answer. He slides down to lay on his side as his hand reaches to pull Suga close by the waist.

In contrary to his eerie stillness, Suga is quick to swat a hand on the action and causes Daichi to snatch his hand back.

"Ow-!" Daichi grumbles. This is definitely the cactus feeling of Suga.

The latter sits up from his position with a leering glare pressing his brows down into a scowl. His face is shadowed in the dark, but his hazel eyes pertain a vague glow when they glower down at Daichi.

"Sorry, stupid question..." Daichi's sheepishly amused smile sends a special flow of annoyance into Suga, whose moonglow skin is lined bright like trailing stardust on his cheek. His silvery locks are in disarray around his face, and it frames the glare in his eyes.

"You're beautiful," Daichi mumbles hesitantly as if he is expecting a berating slap out of the compliment. But he means it whole-heartedly.

"Flattery won't get you anywhere." But the tad softening of Suga's scowl proves otherwise. The compliment does begrudgingly disconcert him, more than he would like to admit. If ever at a time like this.

"I was being genuine." Daichi sits up to level their gazes. "I already know what you're gonna say, but I'm still down to hear it."

"About time," Suga mumbles off to the side.

"I'm sorry," Daichi murmurs lowly. The soft sincerity in his tone is like a breath of fresh air to Suga. "I'm here now, so please let me know what's up."

A deep sigh soars through Suga's lips like a restrained wind finally unfurling in the air. Discontent eyes linger down at the fleece blanket below them as Suga rests his head on his folded knees.

"I'm just sounding like a broken record at this point," Suga mumbles like a stumped child. The innocent demeanor ripples admiration through Daichi's chest, but he is hesitant to indulge in it when he knows the real melancholy of Suga's words. "Leaving in the morning without telling me. There are dangerous things out there and I'm sure you know that... but I also tell myself that you're capable and you can protect yourself. So I at least have that."

"Have what?" Daichi tilts his head to the side to peer over at Suga's gaze.

"Have that sort of... reassurance." Suga shrugs his head into his arms so his voice is muffled. "That I shouldn't have to worry too much about it. You know, 'cause you're strong and fast and monstrously athletic."

They both share a half-hearted laugh that chimes quietly between them.

"But," Suga lifts his head to aim a gaze locked with both uncertainty and adoration. "I remember that that doesn't make you immortal."

With lips sewn shut, Daichi only returns an understanding nod. Out of all the things Daichi highly excels in, he excels the most in listening.

Listening to Suga, most specifically. Though finding the time for it has proven difficult as of recently.

"You could leave without telling me where you went or when you're coming back. And then I could think it's just another normal day until you end up _not_ coming back." Suga's voice trails as if he is becoming embarrassed of his own words. "I wouldn't know what happened, or where to look. Whether you were captured or killed by an infected, or if you simply just up and left. You laying somewhere dead without me knowing at all, I guess that's what... scares me a lot... and makes me angry when you do it over and over again as if I shouldn't be caring about it."

Daichi pulls at Suga's arm to grab hold of his hand. The latter's palm is warm when Daichi encases it around his own, and their fingers find each other effortlessly before twining together into an interlocked grip.

"I'm sorry. I'll stop with that." Daichi's voice is quiet with a touch of fond remorse, and his thumb strokes sparks of warmth around Suga's knuckle. "At first it was because you were just so dead asleep that I didn't want to wake you." Reminiscent brown eyes silently trail down the pale scape of Suga's skin.

"Sheesh, is it so hard to just wake me up?"

"Yes." Daichi's answer is firm with jest and Suga emits a self-pitying chuckle. "Have you met yourself? You can't get up in the morning unless your life depends on it."

"Amen." Suga cracks a genuine smile.

Daichi places his other hand on top of their shared grip as his eyes follow the action. "Also, regarding _my_ deal about things," Daichi's gaze meets the tender attention that is grasped in Suga's eyes. "The rifle and your weapon choice."

For once, Suga doesn't grumble. He simply nods in understanding.

"I don't doubt you, at all," Daichi says. "But that close call we had last summer? With the clickers in the new tunnel?"

"That was a hot mess."

"It also scared the shit out of me because you only had that bow, handgun, and gnarly pipe." Daichi raises Suga's hand to brush his lips against his pale skin. "You know that clickers are tough to kill. And you almost got ripped apart by the pack." He squeezes Suga's hand as a grateful prayer to the fact that he's still alive. "Never shot a gun so fast in my life. I don't know how the hell I got _all_ of them."

"'Cause you're scarier than those things." Suga laughs innocently against Daichi's nearing face. "But, I understand now. I've just been... really afraid of making any noise."

"I get that." Daichi nods. The blessing of having someone as attentive as Daichi is that sometimes he already knows what Suga means with his words. "Does that mean you'll carry that rifle with you?"

"Ugh, yeah," Suga jests wryly with a grin. "How could I not? Now that you said all that."

Daichi's pleased response is to place a chaste kiss on Suga's cheek while a silly grin encases his lips. The contact makes Daichi itch for more, and he slides his lips down to place more kisses on the side of Suga's neck. Passion drips from his lips as he gives attention to the pale skin there, and he feels it sluice down his chest when he draws closer and closer to the other.

Relief takes a leisurely stream down Suga's back at the sensation, and he expresses it through a long contented sigh. With eyes flitting closed, Suga blindly pulls at Daichi's neck to urge him even closer when he falls back against the bed. Daichi's kisses never break contact when he follows Suga down.

Slim fingers curl against rough brown locks that meet the demands of Suga's gripping hand. The increasing sound of Daichi's kisses at Suga's neck and collar courses a shudder down the silver-headed male's spine like a fuse slowly lighting and burning within him. The fuse is starved to a slow stop when Daichi pulls his face away to meet Suga's eyes hiding behind drooped lids.

"I missed touching you," Daichi says what both of them silently entertained.

A bantering grin sparks on Suga's face with opportunity. "Really? Cause I didn't."

A light-hearted frown forms on Daichi's face. "You just never stop, do you?" His eyes follow where his thumb rests on Suga's chin.

Suga reaches up and pinches Daichi in the nose to elicit a brief sound of pain from him. "You're just too easy to tease. It'd be a shame if I didn't take that to my advantage." Suga giggles mischievously.

"You're so deceptively innocent that sometimes it pisses me off." Daichi looks down at the other with a cherishing grin. He drinks in the sight of the moonlight milking its beam on the right side of Suga's face like a half-dipped moon.

"In what way?" Suga bites his lip.

"All kinds." Daichi's lecherously low tone induces Suga to hook his arms around Daichi's neck and pull him into an impatient kiss.

An immediate reaction from Daichi takes place, and his calloused hands start its travel up Suga's side to smooth in the familiar feel underneath his fingertips. It is a melting pot of languidly bubbling steam that heats inside Suga's chest when he feels Daichi's tongue grazing a slow presence on his bottom lip. Despite shallow contact, it reaches a root that is buried deep under the cage of Suga's chest, rattling it awake through uneven breaths picking up pace.

Daichi's kisses are gradual. Always is and always was. It is also hard to get him to pause when he has slipped into the moment, but Suga has never minded because he never imagined himself wanting a pause to occur.

The skin at Daichi's neck feels like hot coals burning red with heat, and so does his hand when they reach under the hem of Suga's shirt to dive a curious ride around his bare chest and stomach. The wonders of Daichi's lips work its magic by kissing and licking up and down Suga's mouth, steering towards making the male melt under him. A soft moan drips like honey from Suga's lips, and Daichi claims victory with a sly smile.

A furious flame of desire and competition has been cast alight, and Suga pulls a fast one on his partner by pushing his kisses further into Daichi's mouth. He feels a wave of excitement being pulled up from the rugs of his gut and into the passion that he manifests onto Daichi's lips. Daichi's laugh is low like a tepidly rumbling wave when he reacts to one of many spontaneous acts done by Sugawara Koushi.

Daichi is not one for spontaneity and has always preferred something predictable. Though, his relentless drive to taste Suga's eccentric spontaneity has gotten him reconsidering that fact.

It is like spices of all kinds, rainbowing a dulcet taste of Sugawara onto Daichi's wanton lips (figuratively and literally). His infectious laugh, crinkling smiles, and (mostly) articulate words. They are the face of spontaneity and its mural of flawed perfection.

It's the breathy pants of pleasure Suga makes when Daichi leaves hickeys up his neck, the grip of his fingers tensing around brown locks, his searching hand that always meets with an eager grab, and the angelically innocent laugh Suga makes when Daichi accidentally nudges the ticklish part of his side under his armpit. It is all so easy to drink in like an enticing lure that leaves Daichi chasing for more.

If Suga is what spontaneity so ideally captures, then Daichi guesses he has a special taste for it.

\--

Suga is not easily awakened by noises. Yet he abruptly finds himself awake in the midst of the pitch-black dark.

The curtains are drawn closed, but Suga can tell it is still deep in the night since there are no leaks of the morning sun spilling from behind the curtains. Watching with sleep-slow eyes, his vision starts adjusting and discerning certain things around the room: the shape of the closet door, the end of the bed frame, Daichi's arm slung over Suga's waist to pull him into a tight cuddle.

The fleece blanket weighs the pair down in a cocoon of warmth on the bed. Suga shifts his legs listlessly with the wonder of why he is awake. Beneath the layer of tranquil silence, he eventually finds no purpose in dwelling and his mind draws quits on the thought. As easily as he awoke, Suga starts to feel the drift of sleep coaxing his mind back into unconsciousness.

But he wakes, again, this time knowing what had awakened him.

It is a thump on the floor above. Too heavy to be the wind moving the house, and too purposeful to be the accidental drop of an item off the shelf. The thump travels down to Suga's beating heart like a shock jolting his mind wide awake. A cold spark unpleasantly echoes down Suga's veins when his breath hitches at another thump coming from further down the ceiling.

Daichi doesn't stir at the noise and is still breathing at a rhythmic pace by Suga's neck.

A handful of the blanket is fisted into Suga's uncertain hand, and he wonders with anxious thoughts whether the night and his drowsiness are playing a sick paranoid trick on his mind. But he immediately tosses out that curiosity when he hears the small rumble of someone's voice vibrating in a faint but awfully clear manner.

"Daichi, Daichi wake up." Suga can feel his voice trembling underneath his words, and it feels airy when they come out his lips. He pushes Daichi's arm off and sits up to shake Daichi's shoulder with a loose tremor in his wrist. "Daichi!" Suga hisses sharply in a whisper.

Daichi is a light sleeper compared to Suga, and yet _he_ was the one to not wake at the thumps against the ceiling. Brown eyes drugged with a drowsy cloud over them find Suga's in the dark.

"Geez, what time is it--" Daichi starts speaking at a full rumble of his voice.

"Sshh!" Suga hushes, sharp and brief.

This rockets awareness into Daichi's face and all traces of sleep dissipate from his features. He is quick-witted with survival, therefore he complies with the order. The unsteady and stilted breaths huffing out Suga's chest are enough to ripple an anxious beat to Daichi's heart.

Sitting up with Suga's hand still grasped at his shoulder, Daichi watches Suga's eyes beat eagerly with unpleasant apprehension. "What happened?" Daichi whispers.

Suga's eyes travel to their untouched and open bedroom door that leads into the stark black hall.

"Someone's upstairs."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The Thief and the Moon - Shawn James](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gFZGt6bMAXA)
> 
> Heh heh, next chapter might be out really soon actually :3  
> My beta workin' hard at reviewing and giving me editing feedback, so feel free to comment on what you think!


	3. Second Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It was a bittersweet victory on both ends. The sweet part being, that Suga didn't have to face rabid infection, and Daichi didn't have to shoot his best friend dead._

"Upstairs?" Daichi inquires in a hushed whisper as he studies the pits of anxiety burrowing deep into Suga's irises. "Someone?"

The latter returns a hurried nod as his labored breaths shiver out each exhale.

"I heard a voice. Unmistakably." Suga swallows a breath in order to obtain a steadier curve in his hushed tone as his alert eyes dash to and fro the door and ceiling. "It was on the floor above. Twice, _I swear._ "

The vague noise of footsteps traveling across the ceiling above them affirms Suga's claim. The thumping steps are subtle with tottering stealth, but still audible enough to be heard with clarity. It causes Daichi's doubt to upend into caution, and he nudges at Suga to get off the bed without further inquiry or clarification.

"Get your shoes on, quick." Daichi murmurs the command with great haste before following through with his own words.

Agreement sweeps Suga up on his feet as he toes on his sneakers beside the bed. His adrenaline-drugged hands quake like tremulous surfs of caution when they take the 9mm from under his pillow, cocking the hammer to ready it for any gunfire.

Daichi retrieves his handgun from under his own pillow after slipping on his black combat lace-ups. A brief click of the hammer echoes after Suga's as a sign of new vigor readying them with heed for danger. But they both pause when a series of hurried steps circle around above them.

"You think that's an infected?" Daichi aims his gaze at Suga from across the bed, whose hair is licked with the moonlight that pours in from behind him.

"They're not making their presence a secret, that's for sure," Suga mumbles as his fingers meander around the grip of the pistol with a newfound dwindle of surveillance in his eyes. But they mask a pertaining uneasiness in them. "But I heard voices."

"Voices, or screeches?" Daichi asks. "Runners can sound like people."

"Regardless of what, we'll kill them." Suga walks around the bed with silent steps approaching Daichi. His gait is loosely anchored with forced composure when he waits for the brunette's curt compliance. "Alright?"

"Aye aye, captain." A guile chuckle brushes over Daichi's words as he grins.

Suga can't help but return the same look, but he groans in a feeble attempt to mask it. "Now I'll make sure those words are your last." Daichi snorts in response.

Silence hastily befalls the pair, and upon Daichi's insistence, he takes the lead in going down the hall as Suga follows a few feet behind.

The hall is inked a jet black, allowing no discernment to be made when Daichi peers through the curtain of darkness ahead of him. He's able to descry the outline of the walls that direct where he is heading, but nothing more. Everything else is submerged into murky ambiguity that draws hesitant steps out of Daichi when he strides ahead.

Suga's gently concentrated breaths can be heard as a dampened whisper behind Daichi, and it gives the latter a sense of calm assurance in walking like a blind man as he waits for his vision to adjust. They tread through the hall in one listless direction, awaiting the next noise to ensue.

Daichi's eyes start growing weary in the dark as he prepares to round the corner of the hall. But clarity comes through a wave of light swamping the pair's vision ahead of them, but not _on_ them.

Daichi's breath hitches in surprise, and his movements draw to a rigid stop without a messy step ensuing beneath his feet.

Footsteps have advanced from the floor above to the second-floor parlor just outside the hall. The piercing white light blooms on the wall in front of the hallway entrance, and it's inches away from touching the tip of Daichi's nose with a taunting threat. As the danger draws close, apprehension crawls up the nape of his neck with thawing heat.

Approaching footsteps from the opposite corner of the wall starts hammering an uncomfortable echo back and forth between the bones of Daichi's ribs like springs. Every nearing step of the unknown person contains a slight drag in their heels, and the friction produces faint _rff, rff, rff_ noises.

_Rff... Rff... Rff..._

Anxiety starts coalescing into courage when Daichi can cognize the hesitation in the steps, almost like a sixth sense. He stations himself where he is like a patient lion as he continues soaking in the noise. His knees unhinge into a bend with anticipation for the imminent prey, and he doesn't let his eyes drink in the blinding light when it finally turns the corner to pan onto his expectant face.

The first thing to go is the flashlight. Knocked with an audible _thunk_ , the metal tool flies through the air beside them with one slap of Daichi's hand. The ray of light does a disorienting spin around the walls before meeting the ground with a raucous thump.

Daichi doesn't allow any reaction to occur from the figure as he blindly slams the base of his 9mm into a head of faint orange hair.

" _Kh!_ " The force of Daichi's gun elicits a choked grunt from the figure, and they stumble forward disorientingly with their head lowered in shock.

Opportunity blazes in Daichi's eyes when he's able to discern the back of the figure in front of him. He coils a strong arm around the intruder's neck from behind to yank him up into a headlock with a strong current of force. For a fleeting second, the intruder writhes groundlessly with legs flying in the air as Daichi attempts to subdue their movements.

He's a lot shorter than Daichi had expected, which makes it an effortless task for him to drag the intruder deeper into the hall.

"Frick-- hands off me, bastard--!" A male voice pulses out the intruder's lips, followed by struggling grunts punching their way through the airtight lock Daichi has around his neck.

When the smaller male's voice starts to fail, his desperate kicks finally avail success when it crashes a reverberating thud against the wall beside them. It rattles up into the ceiling with relentless shakes trembling like aftershocks into the foundation.

Daichi gains enough physical composure from the short-lived struggle to finally press his pistol against the intruder's head. "Make another move, and I'll fire." The threat grits lowly in Daichi's voice when he speaks against the intruder's ear.

Or rather, when he speaks against a muss of fluffy orange-red hair that is fiery enough in color to be distinguished through the dark. The redhead is unpredictably small in stature, with limbs that are hardened in lean muscle but are incomparable to Daichi's.

Wild and grappling breaths rattle out of the redhead's lips in stilted rasps, and his small fingers are curled like metal hooks against the long sleeves of Daichi's crew neck shirt. He doesn't attempt another squirm as the face of Daichi's pistol grows warm at his temple.

Suga approaches with his pistol aimed square at the redhead's face. The quicksilver male points a curt gaze into Daichi's peril-traced eyes. "Looked like you had it in the bag."

Despite two guns staring at his face, the ferocity in the redhead's eyes doesn't waver. The muted color in his eyes is obtrusive with determination, and it's bold enough to be distinguished through the cloaking dark. He's almost like a lick of fire between Daichi and Suga with his reddish hair and fervent glare.

"Tell me why I shouldn't just shoot you right now," Daichi dips his head to growl dangerously into the redhead's ear. "Speak fast or you'll die anyway."

The redhead sharply inhales through gritting teeth, but he doesn't dare attempt at a resisting twitch.

"Hinata?" A muffled voice from the floor above is followed by a rush of footsteps that are no longer heedful of its noise.

Suga shoots Daichi a staggering look of surprise, and Daichi returns the same.

"You have three seconds to say how many people you showed up with," Suga scathes out in one breath. He threatens the gun closer to the redhead's face in an attempt to elicit a fast response.

The nearing footsteps are gaining close distance. But refusal is pulled tight into the redhead's expression, and Suga is another breath away from pulling the trigger under the pending expectancy of a response.

"Don't," Daichi instructs with a sense of Suga's intention. "Regardless of how many are up there, a hostage will give us leverage."

Before Suga can even return an affirming nod, the redhead digs a flying kick into Suga's gut the moment the latter is caught off guard. A rasped cough tugs out Suga's chest when his back slams a cracking impact against the crumbling wall behind him. Blunt pain serrates through every surface of Suga's spine like electric waves, and it throttles his sense of balance with the most delayed reactions that Suga can be cursed with at the moment.

The element of surprise rocks at the vigilance in Daichi's form. The redhead seizes this millisecond of opportunity like a catch of dust in the air, and he shoves away Daichi's arm that held the gun to his head. Daichi pulls at the trigger, but the bullet stridently fires into the floor beside them with no injury done to anything except the hardwood below. A dash of fleeting light jumps from the face of the gun, along with the smell of gunpowder fuming to their noses.

The redhead is incredibly fast as if his limbs are hollow with air. So much so that he unsheathes the dagger that he can _finally_ reach from inside his boot within a moment that could be calculated as half a breath. The blade is swiftly, but briefly in a panic, plunged into the side of Daichi's thigh and back out before the latter can even process how utterly thrown-off he is.

A gritting cry rips through the hushed tones that once treaded on Daichi's vocals. His arms go slack in sheer shock, just enough for the redhead to yank away the hold around his neck in dire liberation.

"Kageyama!" A crack peaks at the redhead's shouting tone as he darts away to escape the hall.

Daichi attempts to chase, but his feet stagger into a hesitant stance when he tenaciously clenches the wound on his thigh.

The screen of darkness is risky to shoot through as there is no clear distinction of the target, but adrenaline surges into Suga's armed hand like an overflowing shore. A quick finger pulls at the trigger to rocket a blind bullet in the direction of where the redhead is running.

Whether it meets his skull or not, Suga doesn't pay much mind. As long as it does _something_ to slow him down.

_Clack!_

The quick flash of light that blinks against the face of the gun provides Suga a fleeting sight of the redhead quickly dipping his head at the discordant sound. Suga's hopes become a reality when the redhead collides headfirst into the wall beside him after the dizzying duck of his head. The sound of the consequent thump is a sound to savor in Suga's ears once his witty mind starts picking up momentum.

It's not a lot of time, but certainly, _enough_ time that Suga buys from this success. He clenches his jaw at the throbbing pulse of pain gnawing at his back and lurches forward with the balls of his feet driving deep into the floor. Placing full impact onto the whole of his body, Suga slams the redhead face-first onto the floor outside the hall.

Suga wrenches the dagger out of the male's hand and shucks it off to the side with an aggressive clatter. The smaller male squawks in pain at the knee digging into his spine, before silencing his protests at the threat of Suga's gun being fixed to the backside of his head.

Pale, trembling fingers rest firmly on the trigger as uneven breaths flow in and out of the seams of Suga's lips. With one hand pulling the redhead's left arm into a twisted angle over his back, Suga listens to the subdued whines of pain slipping out of the male under him.

"Hey!" An unfamiliar voice peals from beside them. Following gunfire breaches through the dark, and Suga grimaces when he hears the bullet drill through the wall beside him with flecked pieces of rubble crumbling to the ground afterward. "If you blow it into his head, I'll blow this one into yours."

Suga's heart deluges into the marshes of his gut when his gaze rises to the left of them. Meters away stands a tall black-haired male being illuminated by the dropped flashlight from before.

Suga has a perfectly clear view of him, but it doesn't seem to be mutual. The latter's eyes blink furiously through the flourishing light aimed straight in his face, and it plasters a ghostly white tone on his skin like an empty canvas. He holds out a 9mm pistol with one tremoring hand as the other clutches at his side, causing his gait to be crumbled a touch forward.

The flashlight shines a blinding beam into the male's stark blue eyes like ice daggers. His stick-straight raven hair is disheveled as if a dusky musk of the night sky is resting on his head. The weighted glare that shoots out his eyes is directionless through the screen of brightness masking his vision. Even the pistol he points in Suga's direction is misaligned through the curtain of light.

It occurs to Suga that the blazing illumination probably saved his life. The flashlight had thwarted the male's plan to blast a bullet into Suga's head.

The blue-eyed male attempts at an advancing step amidst Suga's silent stare.

"Don't move." Suga visibly drives his pistol harder into the redhead's skull and elicits a painful grunt from the latter. "You'll kill me, but at least I'd be taking your buddy with me to Hell."

The tall male remains stagnant when he draws his foot back at the threat. A displeased furrow of his brow creases into his features before his gaze drops to the redhead below Suga. "How are you holding up, Hinata?" His voice is gruff with a clenching tenacity to it.

The supposed Hinata chuckles humorously with a cheek pressed to the ground. "I'll let you be the judge of that, Kageyama." He wriggles helplessly under Suga's knee to further emphasize his point.

Kageyama responds with a tender but abrasive grin twitching up his lips. "That's why I told you to take my fucking gun."

"But you're a better shot with it, aren't you?" Hinata smiles despite his life being on the line. His cheery laugh even vibrates through the floorboards humbly. "Minus that one you just made."

Upon viewing the jest, Suga gulps at whatever empathy he feels starting to drip down the front of his mind.

"I'll spare you a couple of minutes here, buddy." Daichi stumbles out of the hall with a painful sway in his step. His gun lifts towards Kageyama's head while his right hand is bloodied in coats of scarlet. "Because of your friend here, I'm just about ready to kill _both_ of you." Menace is seared onto the sharp glare Daichi wears on his dark eyes.

Blotches of blood parade the side of Daichi's thigh with a glisten. Darker shades surround the wound with stained blood on Daichi's dark jeans, and the linear cut on the material tells where the dagger had been plunged in just seconds earlier.

"Your leg-" Suga's breath hitches at another stream of blood dribbling out of the wound.

"It's fixable." The firmness in Daichi's voice is overtly unstartling. "Right?" He flashes a brief look at Suga to offer him reassurance.

Suga gulps, knowing that they have no first aid left after the robbery. But he only returns a nod. "Yeah," he replies quietly.

Kageyama quickly shifts the aim of his gun towards Daichi. His squinting eyes blink sorely in the spotlight to vaguely identify the outline of Daichi's shape in the shadows.

"Shit..." A low grunt brushes over Kageyama's words.

"How many are with you?" Daichi demands with his gun aimed steadily at him.

"None. It's just us."

The brunette's head tips to the side in disbelief.

"I answered the question." Kageyama scowls, reading the gesture. "I have shit to lose, so I wouldn't lie at this point."

"We'll see how quickly you're gonna backpedal on that," Daichi grumbles, earning a huff of distaste from the raven-haired male. "Who exactly are you?"

"I'm none of your business. And neither is he." Kageyama nods towards Hinata still pinned to the ground. "Just let him go and we'll be on our way."

"Maybe I didn't ask the right question." Daichi sneers out an amused chuckle. " _Why_ are you here?"

Kageyama tenses up from his hunched posture, and his armed hand trembles more than it already has been. "We didn't know the place was still occupied."

"Still?" Daichi echoes. "You been here before?"

A discomfit twitch rocks Kageyama back a step as he attempts at a furtive look, but Daichi is able to stare past it and into the epiphanic truth.

"Ah, I see." Daichi slants on a crooked smile despite his expression having a slightly unhinging look to it. "You're the suckers who robbed us today and went to town on our ammo and first aid. Sound familiar?"

Stiff silence encapsulates the room when Kageyama makes a faint disgruntling noise in hesitation.

"We're survivors too," Kageyama says as his breaths continue to shallow when he speaks. "We just did what we needed to get by."

"We're in the same boat here," Daichi says. "Why else do you think I'm ready to shoot your face for invading our hideout?"

A snide smirk curves up Kageyama's lips. "I'm still waiting for you to go by your word."

"You think this is a joke?" Daichi threatens as his voice climbs with volume. "If you're asking for it, you might as well get on your knees and beg."

Kageyama rasps out a cynical chuckle. "Well, you might just do me the favor of a quick death." A contorted look of discomforting pain captures Kageyama's face when his hand struggles to keep the gun trained on Daichi.

"Stop, Kageyama, stop!" Hinata's voice croaks from the floor before attempting to give Suga a pleading look from the side of his eye. "Please stop, he's bleeding! We didn't mean any harm to anybody!"

"Yeah well, too late for that." Daichi snorts as blood continues to trail out of his right leg.

Suga's eyes glaze down the slowly falling apart form of Kageyama. The hand he has at his side is perceivably drenched with blood.

"Your side," Suga comments as the addressed male's gaze averts to him. "What happened?"

The crimson-painted hand draws away from Kageyama's side as his blue eyes acknowledge it with a look down. "I got scratched on our way here." He returns his gaze back up.

"You call that a scratch?" Daichi remarks. "Or a bite?"

"It just got worse." Kageyama grits. "And it's not a bite...urgh... I'll be fine, just..." An ambiance of genuine worry starts brisking across his eyes when he looks over at Hinata, which Suga takes attentive notice of. "Just let him go, I'll patch myself up, and we'll leave."

The genuineness in Kageyama's tone is a potential bait that Suga is willing to bite at. "And if you come back?" Suga asks.

"Then you'll kill us," Kageyama replies matter of factly. "Therefore we won't come back. We're alone anyway."

An inquiring look is bored into Suga's eyes when he raises them at Daichi. Their gazes connect, but Daichi's remains stubborn when he can feel the soft tone of mercy glazing in those hazel eyes.

"You need to get patched up too," Suga says as a word of persuasion to Daichi. "Just... they said they'll leave."

 _'And we're supposed to just believe them??'_ is silently written across Daichi's crumpled expression.

" _You're_ gonna bleed out during this standoff," Suga's voice dips into a reprimanding whisper as his eyes glance down at the wound on the brunette's thigh. "He's more injured than you are. The odds are on our side if anything happens."

Daichi is anchored with reluctance when he doesn't budge from his stance. "You're kidding me." He scoffs with an undertone of deadpan.

"Does it look like I'm laughing?" Suga retorts. "Just trust my judgment on this for once."

Suga is just as stubborn as Daichi, possibly even more so than the latter. It's exhibited when a pondering look carves into Daichi's eyes as they dart between the two strangers watching the disagreement unfold. Suga certainly racks the trophy for being the more stubborn one out of the two, because Daichi finally responds with a relenting sigh.

He can admit that he is sick of standing, and if he wants to kill the two, he'll at least do it without a leg bleeding out.

Daichi's stare meets back with the blue-eyed one from Kageyama. "Well aren't _you_ guys some lucky ducks." He huffs in an embittered manner. "Pass your weapons in, and I'll give it back once you're patched up."

Hinata and Kageyama exchange a look that drifts between them with synchronization, and begrudgingly, Kageyama tosses his gun to the floor. The firearm skids across the naked hardwood that was once carpet, and it stops by Daichi's feet in a gradual skittering stop.

Picking it up, Daichi shoots Kageyama a suspicious look. "Is that all?"

"The rest is upstairs." Kageyama's eyes blink tiredly.

After giving a hesitant look, Daichi decides to believe him. The guy looks half like a ghost from the pale tone of his skin, so the odds are on Daichi's side if Kageyama were to attempt anything.

"And," Daichi continues, "You're giving us all our supplies back."

"All?" Kageyama mirrors the word discontentedly.

"All." Daichi narrows his brown eyes obstinately. "We spared you your life, so you spare us all the shit you stole from us."

Kageyama visibly clenches his jaw at the proposition, but he capitulates into giving a slow acquiescent nod.

At the compliance, Suga finally lifts his pressing knee from Hinata's back to let him squirm back up into freedom. Hinata twists his arm away from Suga's grip as he sits up against the wall behind him. A hand clutches at his twisted elbow while working the sore arm up and down.

"You grab pretty hard." Hinata's brows are scrunched with seething teeth that hiss out a sound of pain.

"I was trying not to let you escape." Suga deadpans.

"You accomplished." Hinata emits a small laugh. The benign smile that lines Hinata's lips soften the harsh look Suga is driving his way, realizing just how small and child-like he is despite having mature features. It prompts Suga to wonder about the redhead's age.

"Suga," Daichi gathers Suga's attention with a soft grab of his shoulder. "We need to talk." The solemn look that is placed across Daichi's eyes permeates curiosity into the other male.

"Not until you get stitched up first." Suga takes hold of Daichi's wrist as he pulls himself up to pat down Daichi's tense shoulders. A pale hand brushes up the latter's sharp jaw as attentive hazel eyes scrutinize the exhaustion circling under Daichi's lurid stare. "You look like you've dealt plenty."

Daichi takes the pale hand at his cheek to aim an inquisitive look at Suga's unsuspecting face. "What happened to the _'we'll kill them'_ part about earlier?" The question is said in a steeped tone to make it indecipherable to the two strangers beside them.

A frown configures on Suga's face. "I can have a change of mind."

The brunette's eyes follow the redhead staggering up to Kageyama's aid before turning them back to Suga. "Well, this isn't _like_ us."

"To be hospitable?" Suga watches Daichi's features tense up into a blistering stare. It's true, the pair are not the hospitable type. "What, because it's an apocalyptic world, we're not allowed to give people chances-?"

"Do you _want_ to be reminded of the last time we _'gave people a chance'_?" Daichi nears Suga's retorting glare with harsh tenacity imprinted in the way he speaks. He watches the way Suga's stubborn gaze breaches with recognition. "Why else do you think we're holed up in here instead of out there with other people?"

Suga tugs his hand away from Daichi's grip with an averse look dressing his face. "It's one thing to be cautious, and another to be heartless."

"You say that _now_? After... _how many_ people we have killed without hesitation?"

"People that we _could_ have spared."

"But we didn't," Daichi tenses out. "So why now?"

"Kageyama, are you alright?" Hinata's poignant query is enough to draw Daichi and Suga's gaze away from their tense conversation and towards the other pair.

"Take a wild fucking guess, dumbass," Kageyama grunts out with knees faltering the moment he clings onto Hinata for long-awaited support.

"It's a courtesy thing, alright?" Hinata chirps out in a mumbled tone. "You.. hey! C-can you stand?"

Kageyama sinks to the ground with a relieved sigh while his hand is still at Hinata's shoulder in an unrelenting grip. "Just let me... sit. I need to sit." Kageyama shudders out with his head lowered, and his hand dripping a dark crimson color.

"O-oh. Just sit, then..." Hinata kneels by his raven-haired companion, with the flashlight now flaring up the color of his hair under great illumination. His pupils dilate with concern as they never leave Kageyama's pallid expression. "Just don't fall asleep right now... if you see a light, don't go towards it, alright?"

Kageyama briefly chuckles to the ground. "Dumbass."

Hinata's bandaged hand takes to Kageyama's knee in a comforting squeeze, communicating a sort of intimacy that is enough to derail all violent thoughts from Daichi's mind for the time being.

Suga points a gaze at Daichi that is unequivocal with dulcet empathy.

"Why now?" Suga pulls on a pert grin when Daichi returns his gaze. The former's head nods to the pair of strangers before them. " _That's_ why."

\--

Suga gives a light tug at the suture before looping it up into a finish. A linear row of the black thread-like string pulls the wound closed into a thin gruesome line of where the blood was previously streaming out. The medical work is not perfect, but it suffices enough to stop the bleeding.

Daichi grunts with a grimace when he hears Suga set down the tools of their first aid. "Ugh... I can never get used to sitting through this." He releases the deathly clench of his fist as the color rushes back into his fingers in one flush.

"Try asking for some anesthetics. I'm sure _one_ of our clients could get a hand on some." Suga chuckles wryly as he zips up the kit. "Wrap yourself up. I'm absolutely _beat_." The ashen-haired male tosses Daichi a roll of bandages before sinking his head down into the cushioned seat beside the brunette.

"You're the best at this kinda stuff. Thanks." Daichi sits up and smiles as he runs an affectionate hand down his partner's head. He then proceeds to wound up the bandage around his thigh.

"It's only because the wound wasn't the worst it could have been," Suga states when he lifts his head from the couch to toss Daichi his pants back. "You still seem to be able to walk. The little redhead probably missed a tendon by a hair."

"Guess so." Daichi gingerly tugs on his jeans with a slightly furling look of pain. "Still hurts like shit."

"At least you're not doing as bad as _that_ kiddo." Suga nods over at the other pair of males at the opposite corner of the room.

They're all in the second-floor parlor, and the pale dawn is starting to swim in from the window by the wooden-spiked gate. Daichi and Suga sit at the couches by the unfolding light of day, while Kageyama and Hinata reside by the dark walls next to the steep stairs.

Hinata's face is unable to be seen with his head of fiery red hair hunched low over Kageyama's torso to tend to his wound. Through the shaded dark that looms over the stairs, Kageyama's face contorts and tenses every other second with rippling pain.

"Sorry, does that hurt?" Hinata mouses out before flickering an attentive gaze up at the other male.

"Of course it hurts, dumbass." Kageyama grits out with a strain in his voice. "I doubt you even know what you're doing."

"Half. I know half of what I'm doing." Hinata frowns.

"That's reassuring." Kageyama deadpans.

"I know enough to not screw up your cut even further. Just... sit tight."

Kageyama heaves out a long sigh that sweeps through the room. His raven hair blends in with the shaded corner when he leans his head back against the wall. Blue eyes are squeezed shut before casting a curious glance over at Daichi and Suga observing the pair like hawks.

He meets with Daichi's eyes, and it obligates the latter to speak through the awkward tension between their caught stares.

"How'd you guys get in?" Daichi asks, not recalling the sound of the liquor bottle dropping when he woke up.

"Those broken stairs outside the balcony aren't as inconspicuous as you think," Kageyama says in a low tepid grumble.

"We avoided the downstairs way because we set off your guys' trap earlier." Hinata chimes in without breaking his stare away from the suture work he is doing. "I thought that was pretty cool. It did its job in startling someone."

"And then you robbed us?" Suga asks. "Instead of staying?"

"It's pretty obvious that a place with as many supplies as you guys have would already be occupied." Kageyama retorts. "And I saw the note left on the desk saying someone will return. But I overestimated how long you guys would be gone."

"You were _completely_ left-field." Hinata snickers. "You said maybe a day or two."

Kageyama shoots a soured look at Hinata before settling back against the wall without a continued retort.

"We came back because he got injured while escaping a pack just outside the city." Hinata nods to Kageyama's curling expression. "We didn't know where else to go, so we came here."

"That's why you don't go straight into a city that isn't quarantined." Daichi drones out as if it's gospel at this point.

An easy-going chuckle brushes out of Hinata's shy-smiling lips. "We were outside the city, not in. So we were completely thrown-off by all the infected."

Hinata's temperament is far brighter than the stern one that is suppressed onto Kageyama's demeanor. The former's smiles are easier to draw out despite any sour tone being directed at him.

"I'm sorry this is taking so long. I'll have it done soon, and then we can go." Hinata gives a nervous look over his shoulder at Daichi and Suga.

"It's alright," Suga reassures as he gets up from the floor beside the couch. "Do you need some help?"

"S-sure. That would be nice." Hinata stammers awkwardly. The boy has been trying his best.

With Daichi still on the couch, Suga settles down beside Hinata and takes the suture tools from his hands. One look at the wound slashed across Kageyama's side is enough to credit to Suga's earlier claim about Daichi not doing nearly as bad as _this_ kiddo.

The wound is halfway stitched up in imperfect lines, but it's true that Hinata knew at least _half_ of what he was doing. The cut still travels to the upper abdomen in one long swipe, and much to Kageyama's luck, the gash doesn't appear to be deep enough to have punctured into any organs. But the prolonged bleeding is something that hadn't gone unnoticed earlier. Although, it seems to have been subdued to a slow and raw trickle of red that is visible between torn flesh.

"Who's the unlucky guy that had the nerve to do this to you?" Suga asks as he retrieves a rag of disinfectant to dabble down the wound. Kageyama quietly hisses at the cold sting before Suga starts to work the sutures one by one with more efficiency.

"The _'unlucky guy'_ was a broken-down car." Kageyama gives a small reticent chuckle. He grimaces with discomfort once the sharp tools start threading stitches through his skin again.

A soft laugh flits out Suga's small smile. "Sounds like it sucked. What happened?"

"He ran past it like an idiot even after I told him to get on the other side of the path where there _weren't_ any sharp things," Hinata grumbles when he earns a deadly glare from the raven-haired male.

"There was a damn pit between us and clickers were on my tail."

"Should have gone on my side in the first place."

"Some rational thought is abandoned when you're _running for your life_."

"I lack rational thought all around and yet I still made the smart decision to take the safer path!"

The two bicker as Suga listens between them amusingly. He can't recall the last time he's heard someone other than Daichi laugh. Clients don't quite have a smiling face when they're met during a trade or a smuggle, therefore Daichi and Suga always return the same. The only exception to that treatment is when they meet with their one set of clients who are hunters in the city. Their flamboyant leader is hard to not crack a smile at, but even then, Suga only sees them once every season.

Long minutes stretch enough to the point Kageyama and Hinata's banter die down into silence, with the latter sitting on the stairs and the former hooding his lids over his blue eyes. His lips still tremble from time to time the further up Suga starts working the sutures, but eventually, he loops the end between the tools to finish it off with a knot.

"Good news," Suga crests on a smile. "I'm done."

Kageyama merely grunts as Suga pulls away to let him shift around. A tight expression grips his brows down when he pulls his t-shirt back over his exposed torso, with every movement stinging at his side.

"Yay yay! You're done, Kageyama!" Hinata beams with a smile as he jumps from his seat at the stairs. He has Kageyama's olive green overshirt readily offered for him to take.

"How's it feel?" Suga asks. "The stitches, I mean."

"It's okay," Kageyama responds tersely in a murmur as he takes his article of clothing from Hinata. His arm lowers beside him again with a tentative pause of his upper body.

"It'll definitely sting." Suga takes out a roll of bandages from the kit and holds it out towards Kageyama upon observing the hesitant movements. "But wrapping it up might help. Maybe your friend can help you with this one."

Suga watches the movement of Kageyama's arm rising from his own shadow again as the raven mutters thanks. He then reaches over to take the bandages from Suga's offering hand, and the fully risen dawn beams a steady glow of light onto Kageyama's forearm.

Without intention, Suga pauses his gaze on what he sees scarring the pale scape of skin there.

Hazel eyes blink furiously at the bubbles of skin scarred over in tinges of pink on Kageyama's exposed arm. Unnatural discoloration patches around blushes of pink that are in contrast to the consistent tone of Kageyama's skin. The scarring is all captured around in a circle, and the skin rises in bumps and twists like a contorted view of mountain ranges from above.

A shocked breath quietly hitches at Suga's throat upon realizing how familiar the scar looks. His hand seizes his own left shoulder where his infected bite is scarred over, dropping the roll of bandages to the floor between them before Kageyama can even take hold of it.

Hinata and Kageyama watch the bandages roll by their feet before steering their gazes over at Suga, who has a cogs-turning-in-his-head look curtaining his eyes widely. Kageyama's features then begin to mar with sharp realization when he follows Suga's wide-eyed stare that is fixed down at the scar on his arm.

Kageyama staggers up to his feet with the overshirt being thrown over his scar, and Suga flinches back to look at the anxiety painting the former's blue eyes with drips of defensiveness in his furled brows.

"You..." Suga begins to murmur incredulously. "You... your arm."

"It's nothing," A cold edge is frozen over Kageyama's tone when he narrows his eyes down at Suga. "Keep your eyes to yourself."

"Woah, hey. What's going on?" Daichi rises from his seat on the couch upon hearing the crass twinge in Kageyama's unsteady breaths. Brown eyes immediately drop to Suga, who is still seated on the floor in stuttering surprise.

"Kageyama, w-we should go now, yeah?" Hinata quickly joins his companion at his side when he feels the two other males' gazes fixed on them suspiciously.

"Wait, I need to see it--" Suga flounders up on his feet with a grappling curiosity that needs to be appeased _quick_.

" _No_ , you _don't_." Kageyama backs away into the wall before Suga even considers reaching for his arm.

He looks like a cornered animal, now that Suga looks at him really carefully. Therefore he makes a step back from their space with hands up in the air, expecting them to attempt an escape. But they don't.

"It's a bite," Suga mumbles in order to will his voice into a slower speed.

Tension works Kageyama's jaw closed, but he speaks through his clenched teeth with cold grit. "Yeah, it is."

"How old?"

Kageyama blinks bewilderedly. "What?" Signs of alarm slowly start capsizing into puzzling confusion on his face.

Expectant silence simmers in the room when Kageyama darts a look between Suga and Daichi, with the latter approaching the group from a few feet behind. A look of sincerity is clouded in Suga's eyes when he asks, and it ushers a sense of ease into Kageyama in regards to returning a reply.

"A little over a year." Kageyama clears his throat after his voice unceremoniously cracks. He can feel Hinata's fingernails digging into his arm nervously.

"Can I see it?" Suga asks. The look he has on is indecipherable, but not threatening.

With a brief moment of contemplation, Kageyama reluctantly concedes when he slips the overshirt off his arm and precariously holds out his exposed scar in Suga's direction. Daichi comes up behind the latter to join in on dragging an inspecting look down the bubbles of skin, and Suga shakes in an unsteady inhale.

The arm on display is quickly retracted as Kageyama slips the overshirt on with the sleeves covering his skin.

"You guys are the first to react like this." Hinata remarks, studying the silent looks on the other pair's expressions.

Without another suspenseful second carrying on, Suga pulls back the shirt collar over his left shoulder to uncover where the same bubbled skin, blushing pink, and discolored scar sits. It's far less pink and fresh than Kageyama's, whose bite alone is not fresh at all. The bubbled skin on Suga's shoulder is less prominent and flattened to a darker tone of pale skin.

But nonetheless, it's all encircled in the shape of a bite.

Undisguised surprise and blatant shock bloom onto Kageyama and Hinata's faces, and it elicits a wry chuckle from Suga.

"Uncanny, right?" Suga dips his forehead into his hand with contemplation.

"Uncanny," Kageyama echoes under his breath. "That's one word for it."

\--

A second chance at life.

That's what Daichi had deemed it after a month passed without a single twitch, sprout, or anything that would indicate a turn from Suga's bite. The wound only scarred over with time instead of blistering with fungi of any sort.

It was a bittersweet victory on both ends. The sweet part being, that Suga didn't have to face rabid infection, and Daichi didn't have to shoot his best friend dead.

But the _bitter_ part about _bittersweet_ was that they no longer lived within the safety of quarantine walls. Albeit, safety in government quarantine doesn't quite mean comfort, so was it _really_ that much of a loss?

Suga's fingers ghost a delicate feel across his scarred bite, hardly being able to believe it has already been four years. He was sixteen when it happened, and he tries to think where he would be if he hadn't snuck out with Daichi that night.

He would have either been a soldier, or dead. And both are equally terrible sentences.

The circumstance of Suga's unturned bite has almost gotten him killed on multiple occasions. People are either poisoned with paranoia or greedy for a couple of beneficiary prices when they learn the rarety of Suga's situation. After almost being handed off to a bunch of nobodies by a group that Suga and Daichi had helped through a harsh winter, it had drawn the pair to completely break off on their own together.

And Suga, from then on, was to never utter a word about his... condition.

But those in likeness are bound to be more willing to share their secrets. Evidently so since sitting across from Suga is Kageyama, who too has an unturned bite. Suga has never willingly shown his scar to anyone, even before he and Daichi had decided to fly solo together.

Suga tentatively brushes his fingers down Kageyama's unsleeved arm, feeling every bump, keloid, and dry patch on the site of the bite. "Now that's real, alright." He says, almost in awe.

"As if I would fake it." Kageyama gently pulls away, bringing his sleeve back down over the scar.

On the couch of the second-floor parlor sits Daichi and Kageyama, the two injured ones, and much space separates the two. Hinata dawdles by Kageyama's side of the couch while Suga does the same by Daichi's side. The dawn has risen into a full morning, and it gives more clarity to Hinata and Kageyama's young features. Lurid blue eyes and fiery red hair stand before the older pair, both fuming the same aura of unrelenting survival.

Tension is still lingering between the two pairs, given by their cautious gaits, but much of it has definitely simmered off. It has instead been thawed away into curiosity.

"A year, you said?" Suga asks.

Kageyama returns a brief nod. "Yours?"

"If I'm counting right, it should be four years now." The sheepish smile on Suga's lips is twinged with stark nostalgia. "How'd you get it?"

"The same way anyone has." Kageyama murmurs with a covert and stoic look curtaining his expression. "By being stupid."

Suga makes a noise that is close to an awkward wince. Because Kageyama isn't quite wrong with that statement, but he still has failed to explain the story of his bite. But Suga also finds himself with no right to prod on it.

" _What_ are you guys after?" Daichi interjects, earning the bewildered stares of Kageyama and Hinata. The looks they're casting his way makes Daichi huff out a guile grin. "You said you attempted to go through the city. Unless you're trying to make fast travels through somewhere, _no one_ ever dares to go through an unquarantined city."

Choked silence settles on the other pair, and they share the same look of uncertainty as if they aren't sure how to provide an adequate response.

This permeates a new curiosity into Daichi.

"You guys... _do_ know that, right?" His brows scrunch down with query at the same time his gaze narrows at the two.

"We never actually tried to go through the city. Again, we were just outside it." Hinata chuckles out. "But... yeah, we kinda did know that."

"You don't _kinda_ know something like that," Daichi says. "It's either you avoid them or you trek through like a madman."

"Well, then I guess we didn't know," Hinata shrugs, almost too nonchalantly to the point it sends puzzling looks onto Daichi and Suga's faces.

"Where are you guys from?" Suga asks. "Almost everyone around would know the basics."

 _The basics_. Those words visibly sting at Kageyama and Hinata in the form of tensed shoulders almost as if their pride has been jabbed at. But even then, they don't speak with the opportunity to defend themselves. Hesitation still lies on their faces like clouds obscuring their true thoughts.

And Daichi decides to attempt at breaching through that hesitation.

"If you're not willing to say anything else, you guys have a free invitation to leave." Daichi shifts forward to lean his elbows onto his knees. "I'll give back your weapons since you guys gave back our supplies, and then you can be on your merry way to whatever death wish you're chasing and never come back."

"That sounds like a great plan." Kageyama bitters out easily. "We have no obligation to talk anyway."

The sudden shift in Kageyama's temperament makes Daichi lock his jaw aversely.

"Alright." Daichi breathes out, clearly feeling unaccomplished. He pats a hand at his own knee. "Then I guess why even bother? I'm not sure what we were trying to accomplish anyway."

"I would like my gun back," Kageyama says without a single comprehensible drop of politeness in his words as he begins to get up from his seat with a wrinkled look of discomfort while doing so. But a protesting look starts casting down Hinata's face as his eyes run back and forth between Kageyama and Daichi, clearly displeased.

"All yours, kid." Daichi begins to get up himself. "Then the stairs are all yours. Just don't trip on the way out." Snarky jest is laced in those words, and it sours Kageyama's expression with annoyance.

Fully standing now, Kageyama ignores the tugs Hinata is giving at the former's arm. The redhead's face starts to tense into staggering persuasion with the tuck of his brow.

"But, Kageyama!" Hinata pleas out with a grappling strain in his voice while Daichi reaches towards his backpack to retrieve Kageyama's gun. "We should tell them--"

"Shh! No, we shouldn't." Kageyama hisses reprimandingly, which certainly earns Suga's attentive stare at the bickering.

"But, they have someone like you--" Hinata doesn't relent to a quieter tone, and his grip at Kageyama's arm is stubborn as if he has claws sprouting from his fingertips.

The redhead's words certainly reel in Daichi and Suga's interest like an alluring bait. Daichi straightens back up, withdrawing from holding the gun out to Kageyama, in which the raven's face deeply frowns at. His clipped expression exhibits how hard he's trying to disregard the unceasing pleas beside him.

"Stop! It'll just end up being an unnecessary drag." Kageyama snaps through gritted teeth after yanking his arm away from Hinata's grasp in an attempt to silence him. Then he insistently holds his hand out towards Daichi for the gun, much to Hinata's scathing displeasure that is showered down his face.

Daichi silently starts passing the gun over when Hinata comes forward and pushes Daichi's offering hand away. Well-earned surprise captures the faces of everyone in the room, especially Kageyama's before frustration starts flushing into his blue eyes.

"Hinata, you dumbass-!"

"This is mankind, Kageyama! Don't let your stubborn butt think you can be its sole savior!" Hinata cries out as if his voice has been crassly bubbling under the surface.

Nothing but a tongue-tied sound sputters out of Kageyama's mouth, and irritation is clearly marked on his agitated face. It crinkles his brows down into a scowl, and his lips part to show his clenched teeth under the work of a locked jaw.

Kageyama's blue eyes catch the incessant stares from the other pair, unsure of how to communicate his way out of their weighted looks.

"Mankind?" Suga repeats with incredulity forming on his face and tone. "Savior?"

"Sounds like Jesus Christ to me," Daichi mumbles with an amused smirk. "Since when was the last time somebody believed in that guy?"

Hinata steps forward with an urgent look to get his words out, but the raven grabs at his shoulder to jerk him back in place.

"Hinata, _no_ \--" Kageyama drives a threatening glare into Hinata's round brown eyes with a snarl.

"It's for the better." Hinata turns away and shrugs off Kageyama's hand that only comes back onto his shoulder.

"We don't even _know_ these people-"

Hinata blatantly ignores and begins to speak. "Last summer, our colony up in-"

"Oi dumbass, stop-"

"The Fireflies, we're looking for the Fireflies who-"

" _Hinata-"_

"Were helping us relocate to a new-"

"Hey-!" Kageyama barks loudly, giving Hinata another rough jerk back.

Clearly fed up, Hinata slaps Kageyama's arm off his shoulder with a wrenching grip, and it makes the latter stumble back onto the couch due to his weakened state.

Now availing freedom, Hinata goes off on a rapid tangent before Kageyama can silence him once more.

"Our colony last summer, up in Morioka, was attacked by the military in an attempt to seize our settlement, and they were successful. But before that happened, our colony had been in touch with the Fireflies who helped us escape government oppression by attempting to relocate us to a new settlement after we offered them--" Hinata gives not one, not two, but three hastened huffs at how fast he is speaking before continuing. "--after we offered them Kageyama's case. Because they say--" He huffs again with a long sigh. "--they say that someone like Kageyama is the potential to a cure."

A cure.

The word, _cure_ , bubbles echoes that slowly settle in Suga and Daichi's ears with an awry overtone.

"A-a cure," Suga states with a stutter, his eyes narrowing with initial disbelief and shoulders going slack. His slightly parted lips give way to how dumbfounded he is by the flow of information, but hesitation still reins him back from full surprise. But the fact slowly sinks into his heart like quicksand, and it quickly overtakes him with brisk words. "To--"

"To the infection!" Hinata waves his hands around in the air with impatient exasperation. "The infection that makes those disgusting things! A cure! To that!"

Processing silence slowly imprints stunned looks on Daichi and Suga's faces. Kageyama remains silently simmering with defeat as Hinata huffs with his buoyant steps buzzing around in place. The word _cure_ ponders in Suga's head with great surreal regard, and it electrifies a slow and tantalizing hope within him.

A hope that maybe his second chance at life was actually _meant_ for something.

"We've heard the Fireflies say a bunch of that talk already." Daichi, on the other hand, is not convinced and only returns a cold frown. "And it always turns up into dust in the end."

Hinata tenses back with a faltering expression.

"Oi, Daichi!" Suga taps at the brunette's arm with a frown of his own.

"You know this, Suga, the Fireflies are just a bunch of ambitious people who are always too short of their goals." Daichi turns aside to face Suga with an acute stare piercing through his eyes. It shatters through the hopeful vigor shielding Suga's gaze. "They've been talking about a cure for half a century, and still nothing. Are you willing to wait half a century more?"

Suga grimaces with a withering look that sours Daichi's gut into shame. "With a pessimistic mind like yours, the cure to mankind will never even be a possibility." The quicksilver male mutters with a grave voice, and it does its job in sentencing Daichi into an unresponsive silence.

Daichi looks taken aback by this, but he isn't surprised.

Rigid tension boils up a presence in the room, with Hinata clenching his fists tightly beside him, Kageyama drilling a stare into the floor from the couch, Daichi caging a retort inside his tightened teeth, and Suga sighing out a calming breath before closing his eyes in an attempt to grasp tranquility. At least the birds chirping outside give _some_ sign of undisturbed peace.

What a morning it has been.

"Tell me more," Suga slowly raises his gaze towards Hinata, causing the latter to perk his eyes up at the quicksilver's soft expression. "About the Fireflies, and the cure."

A small smile dares up on Hinata's lips.

"And just tell me about your guys' travels up until this point while you're at it." Suga offers before scooting past Daichi to sit on the couch without acknowledgment.

And no matter how much protest Daichi feels tightening around his throat, he swallows it all down and sits on the floor against the couch by Suga's feet. He thinks about reaching for Suga's hand as a silent apology, but his own hands remain still on his lap as the other two begin to speak.

Sigh. Back to square one, he goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Through the Valley - Shawn James](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AtHubsyGD8w)
> 
> Yeah, I guess I lied about a new chapter being out soon cause it has been a week since I posted the last LOL.  
> Okay well, I'll probably aim for weekly updates of the fic, no telling what day, but a rough weekly upload. This is literally my summer project but I am nOT COMplAinIng. And if the odds are good, maybe faster than a weekly upload? Don't know yet!
> 
> Anyway, feel free to comment what you thought and give kudos if you think it's deserved!


	4. Liars & Fragility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _If there is anything Kageyama has learned this day, it's that he is a devilish liar._

**[One Week Earlier]**

The highway is blocked again.

Cars and trucks clog the road ahead in congested clusters, with heads of grass blanketing all the machinery in an overgrown vigor. The truck comes to a steady stop before giving a tottering bump that nudges Kageyama forward in his seat behind the driver.

"Ah, you're joking..." Miwa delivers a whispering grunt as her head peers over the left shoulder of the passenger seat to see out the windshield. She slumps back in her seat, disgruntled. "How many detours are we going to make?"

Kageyama releases a quiet sigh upon seeing the other trucks halting before the blockage of the highway. He's just as disheartened by it as his sister, but groaning never seems to bring his prayers into the light.

"Tobio."

Kageyama turns his head at his older sister, a pale-skinned girl with long, moppy raven hair tied roughly into a ponytail. Stray strands fall around her angular face despite hair clips attempting to tame it back against her head.

"What." Kageyama deadpans without a questioning tone.

A narrowing gaze creases in Miwa's eyes at the half-assery. "You have some water?"

Wordlessly without sparing even a nod, Kageyama reaches into his backpack to toss his half-filled canteen of water. The raven girl catches it between her hands to take a brief gulp of the lukewarm liquid after unscrewing the cap.

"You think we'll make it there right before fall hits?" Miwa asks while looking out the window at the toppled city below the road.

"Maybe." Kageyama shrugs. "Too many blockages, it might take another month to weave around again."

The past few weeks had consisted of attempting to weave around the outskirts of Sendai. The roads are a twisted labyrinth that take a few attempts at solving, but all it does, in the end, is back up time. And time is the only value that is immeasurably precious in the world.

_"Ukai says to give the people a stop here. Squad Four will scout for a new road. Over."_ The walkie talkie by the driver buzzes with the static-cloaked voice of a female before drowning out with a dual beep.

"Roger that." The Firefly driver drones before throwing a perfunctory glance up into the rear-view mirror. "You're safe to get fresh air until they find a new road. Just don't go too far where there aren't any Fireflies." A lingering look settles on Kageyama. "Doing something stupid might land you some trouble."

A glare crosses into Kageyama's eyes, but he doesn't get to shoot the look at the driver that is already out of the truck in one quick move.

"Tch. What an ass." Kageyama grumbles. He unbuckles his seatbelt while holding his sour gaze at the Firefly through the window.

"You're known as the stupid guy who got himself bitten." Miwa remarks without a hitch of sarcasm in her voice or any intention to jest. Facts are all she is saying. "Wouldn't hold it against him." She zips her backpack closed before opening the door on her side.

"Yeah, yeah..." Kageyama grunts with a low sigh as he shoulders his backpack. He opens the door on his side to hop out of the truck, and his feet land on the cracked concrete below.

Splits in the sun-dried pavement travel endlessly in jagged lines, resembling the irregular look of streams flowing across fields of rich grass. Just like the ones back home.

Except it's not _home_ anymore, but Kageyama frequently forgets to stop regarding it as so.

The sides of the highway are adorned with decaying grits of rubble and snows of old ratty paper. The sky and its clouds are sordid above the road, and it rains a pensive state to everyone who stands under it. Green hues in the lush trees are growing deflated in color, and so are the fading shades of yellow that line the ground in one uniform direction.

Not used to such gloomy grounds and unenthusiastic chatter, Kageyama stares at the toes of his converse shoes when he leans back against the side of the truck. He drives the balls of his feet into the layers of dirt between him and the road, and it caves into a crater in the shape of his foot.

The peal of children's laughter, the sound of clean streams coursing under bridges, and the fumes of smoke from hearths of campfires have been stilled into nothing. Unheard and unknown now, Kageyama merely listens to vanquished life that is in the form of hushed voices and Firefly radios mumbling every which way.

Home is being redefined now.

"Kageyama!!"

Blue eyes shoot up at the sound of his name, and Kageyama's line of sight narrows in on the redhead a few meters across the road, hopping buoyantly from side to side. Hinata's rapidly waving arm encourages the raven to lift himself from the truck and saunter over.

"No need to look like a monkey from afar." Kageyama snickers with a pert smirk when he approaches. "They might shoot you, thinking you _are_ one."

An innocent frown crowns Hinata's brows, but it's quickly brushed away into a rapt smile.

"How's the ride going for you?" Hinata asks with hands resting on his backpack straps. "Must be nice having all that space."

Brisk annoyance tops the screens of Kageyama's irises. "Not my decision, you know."

"I know, I know. I'm just teasing," Hinata laughs light-heartedly to dismiss any tension. "Natsu just _hates_ having to share space. It's crowded at the back of the truck, so I'm sure she's off with her friends right now and jumping like rockets."

Hinata's chocolate-brown eyes survey around the assembly of Firefly trucks in search of his little sister. People tepidly buzz around the vehicles, engaging in low-toned conversations and small gatherings. But smiles are a rare sight no matter how many times Kageyama sweeps his gaze around.

The only one he can find is the one right in front of him.

"What's got the cure for mankind thinking so hard?" Hinata tethers Kageyama's gaze back in by digging his elbow into the latter's.

A glower whirls down at Hinata like a sharp bullet, prompting him to wince sheepishly.

"Okay, wow, didn't know it was a _sensitive_ topic." Hinata chirps downwards to himself.

Sensitive? No other word can describe Kageyama's situation to the T than _sensitive_.

Kageyama's eyes drift around them warily at Hinata's excessive zeal on the situation. "I just don't find the need to preach it as if it's the next coming of some... messiah." He says in a rumbly low tone.

A gasp winds in between Hinata's agape lips. "That's a _great_ idea! Starting your own religion!"

Kageyama returns a sandy dry stare that leaves Hinata simmering in his own quipped excitement. But it doesn't waver the beam in Hinata's wide-blown eyes.

"If you want a god to look up to, I don't wanna be it," Kageyama drones.

"Why notttttt? I thought someone like you would like the idea of that." Hinata whines as he throws light punches into the raven's gut. He only lands a few in before Kageyama swats away at the gesture.

_Someone like you_ tugs a special peeving nerve inside Kageyama. "Grgh... I'll do you a favor and pretend I didn't hear that last part, dumbass." He gives one reprimanding shove at a fluffy head of orange-red hair. The action sends Hinata into a stifled laughing fit. "People don't really... see it as a blessing here."

Hinata pouts bewilderedly as if he is not aware. "Why not?"

" _Why not—_ " Kageyama reiterates with a stumble. He does a sputtering turn of his head. "Do you not know how they treat me?"

"Well I know they treat you to a truck for yourself."

A hopeless and conceding sigh undertones an indecipherable mumble in Kageyama's throat. He wishes he could be as simple-minded as Hinata; it'd make many things much easier to deal with. 

"People should be..." Hinata lowers his gaze down at the collected pile of pebbles strewn below his feet. "Happy about it, right?"

"Should be." Kageyama parrots. His finger thumbs at the pocket line of his ebony jeans without thought. "But... things don't always turn out as they should."

_Fear comes first, and then acceptance_. Miwa's voice is almost loud and clear when Kageyama internally speaks the phrase.

A pat swings onto Kageyama's arm from aside, causing him to make a disconcerted twitch. "But _I'm_ happy!" Hinata exclaims with a volume that has people's heads whipping in their direction.

"Are you dense? Keep it down!" Kageyama grits out in a taut voice. He shakes the shorter male with a clutched grip on his shoulder.

Hinata's ear-to-ear smile furls up in a sheepish one. "Well, I _am_ happy..." A bristling chuckle softly sounds from Hinata. "Because it's better than you being dead, right?"

Kageyama's shoulders tense in the subtlest manner possible. His features pinch disconcertedly before holding a hard, clandestine stare at Hinata as if he's slowly cognizing his words. The latter merely glints back a guileless sparkle on every corner of his face, and it softens the skin-digging grasp Kageyama has on Hinata's shoulder.

"Yeah," Kageyama fully unclasps his grip to draw his hand back to his side. But his irises bore a rather downcast look. "Better than being dead."

The words sit with a foul taste on Kageyama's tongue. He can feel a lie etched in his words, and it swirls puffs of inquiry in his head. Was _this_ really better than being dead?

Kageyama swallows back the feeling when he hears the faintest sound of a drilling hum pumping in the sky above. Not the only one to notice, Hinata's gaze lifts up at the sky at the noise.

The noise is similar to wings flapping in the air, heavily and time-splittingly fast like the speed of a hummingbird's wings. It's enough to drop a deafening wind over the crowd, and it earns everyone's leeching gaze from on the road. What could be discerned from the sky is a helicopter, gliding and slowing directly over the crowd of people.

The helicopter is skinned with a camo green color and topped with four blades that cycle quickly in blurred lines of black, exhibiting how fast the rotor is spinning.

The voice of Firefly soldiers attempt to pierce through the sound, but their efforts face a losing battle to the reigning domain of pulsing _chuff chuff chuff_ noises. The sound drowns everyone's conversations away into a lost sea of a droning hum, leaving only eyes to see. The wind blows brutally at people's hair, causing tresses and locks to dance around their eye-narrowing expressions.

Everyone is still with gazes nailed at the helicopter, completely deterred by the assumption of it belonging to the Fireflies. It has the colony immobilized in place, simply gaping at the vehicle as it slowly lowers itself to the ground without ever touching it.

Kageyama falls under the same assumption before it quickly falls apart in his head. A concurrent realization dawns on him when he doesn't remember the Fireflies ever owning a helicopter.

A vague distinguishment of words are heard from Fireflies roaring through the loud drill for everyone to take cover. An ephemeral moment of confusion wipes over the colony before the first ear-splitting crack of a bullet triumphs through the whir of helicopter blades.

"Ukai, the military has opened fire!" A Firefly barks into a walkie talkie from behind Kageyama.

Tumult erupts within the traveling colony as the rabble of people disperses like glass shattering. Singular gunfire claps like rhythmic thunder to send bullets splitting into people's heads. Bodies drop at each crash of sound as if lightning is striking people down one by one at a steady rhythm.

The sight of people starting to drop dead into a plash of their own blood spikes adrenalizing fear into Kageyama. It's a violent current of awareness that washes his mind anew, and it has him jumping into action almost immediately.

He turns and slaps a hand on the top of Hinata's backpack to insistently yank him into the same sense of reality.

"Move!" Kageyama barks before spinning on his heels to sprint off towards where everyone is running: the thicket that leads off the highway.

"I— ok—" Hinata barely speaks but doesn't protest when he abides by Kageyama's command.

Chasing clacks of gunfire has Kageyama not trusting his luck enough to keep running, and he ducks and stumbles to the ground beside a truck that shields him from the helicopter's view. Hinata follows Kageyama's lead by doing the same, and the two are panting shoulder to shoulder as a concurrent bullet fires into the side view mirror by the redhead's head.

Glass crystallizes into pieces as the pair shield an arm over the left side of their faces, merely letting the shards rake past their skin without drawing blood.

"Did that... we just..." Hinata stilts out in the mixture of quickening breaths when he stiffly lowers his arm. His gaze is blown wide at the ground before darting his fearful eyes up at Kageyama with a plea for answers. "What do we do?"

The drowned out screams and the slow metronomically paced gunfire are making it hard for Kageyama to articulate a witty response.

"We run, idiot! What else can we do?"

"Then why aren't we running!"

Kageyama is unable to stir up a riled retort when a Firefly truck by the trees combusts into a fire that quickly licks the air with smoke. The explosion surfs a vibrating wave through the air with a monstrous wind, and both Kageyama and Hinata screw their lips shut when they feel the ground shake tremulously below them.

The steady pace of gunfire soon shifts into rapid trills of grating bullets that pelt onto the road beside the truck. Hinata visibly shudders with knees curling up against his chest when the showers of _clack! clack! clack!_ on the other side of the truck sways the vehicle against the pair's backs.

"Kageyama..." Hinata fists a grip onto the raven's green overshirt to drag the latter's withering gaze his way. "I can't go anywhere without Natsu... I need to find where she is."

Hinata's voice quakes beneath itself like a clattering foundation of porcelain plates: frail and ready to shatter at any moment.

_Miwa_. The name sprouts at the forefront of Kageyama's mind with relevance, and it blooms a paralyzing heat that overtakes his beating heart in one swallow of anxiety. Though the grip Kageyama returns to Hinata's hand keeps his panic at bay.

"We need to save ourselves first." He begins to pull Hinata up, but he refuses with a pullback, bringing Kageyama back down to the ground in a crouch.

"No, Kageyama, I _promised—"_

"You're gonna die if you don't move!" Kageyama snaps with a snarling growl in his tenacious voice. His blue eyes scorch into Hinata's flinching gaze. "If you wanna see her, at least live through this first, dumbass!"

Hinata grimaces at the aggression in Kageyama's command, but an acquiescent nod of his head conveys that the raven had gotten the message across.

As people's screams climb at the pitch of shrieks, gunfire is no longer a solo threat when heart-stopping rasps reach within earshot. The overlap of curdling screeches prompts Kageyama to twist his head behind him, peering out at the thicket where everyone running has stopped.

"That's..." Kageyama's expectation is ruefully met when he spots faces of the infected scurrying out from the trees and onto the highway. "...Another shit show..."

All the infected are runners, emitting bone-chilling wails as unruly force wields their arms in quick swipes ahead of them. Its danger is too lately realized as people halt right at the face of the attack, and Kageyama steers his eyes away upon hearing terror-drenched screams start peaking at sky-breaking pitches of pain.

A new plan attempts to spin through Kageyama's head when his eyes dart around the road. The road ahead is blocked as noted earlier, and the way back blooms into an open view for the helicopter's advantage. The right side of the highway behind Hinata slopes down into a dump of dirt, and the left side is lined with trees that lead inland.

And where the infected are pooling in.

Kageyama draws in a quick breath before realizing that his grip is starting to bruise at Hinata's wrist from anxiety. But Hinata is silent when the raven looks back to meet his fear-cloaked expression that is on the brink of catatonia.

"Hinata, we have to run straight through the infected."

"What—?!" Hinata sputters with a violent shake of his head.

The incessant drill of the helicopter rotor begins drawing closer over the pair's head, and the advancing sound of gunfire moves along with it.

"You're fast, you can outrun them." Kageyama feels time starting to sparse.

"That's—"

"There's no other way," Kageyama draws out his semi-auto 9mm Walther from his back pocket. He cocks it ready with a resounding _click_ before blistering a solemn stare into Hinata's eyes. "I'll clear a path for you, and you just _run_."

Hinata is unresponsive with an agape stare.

"If you think I'm gonna make a mistake, I'll beat your ass." Kageyama dips his pitch low with a narrowing scowl.

"I'd rather die." Hinata groans wryly.

Satisfaction twitches the end of Kageyama's lip into a twitch. "So then _move_."

Kageyama doesn't allow any further retort to be said when he urges Hinata ahead while remaining low beside the truck. Hinata is hesitant after anchoring a crouched stumble.

Kageyama watches Hinata's shoulders stiffen from behind.

"So many people are dead..." Hinata whispers gravelly.

A shudder of his own snakes up Kageyama's shoulders. "Just... don't look." He murmurs.

The smaller male audibly inhales a shaky breath. "Clearing a path. You'll really do it, right?" Hinata throws a clarifying look over his shoulder.

"I always do what I say I'll do." Kageyama ensures, his confidence sealing comfort within the other.

"Okay... okay. I believe you."

Bullets crash through the windows of the truck above them, and rains of glass shower onto their heads as the pair duck at the meteor of shards.

Time is at its thinnest.

"Then _go_!" Kageyama demands with a reverberating shout.

Hinata winces hesitantly before his feet kick up into a dash. As instructed, Hinata makes a beeline towards the incoming infected and ablaze Firefly truck by the forest, already catching the attention of eager runners starting their chase after him. Hinata has already gathered up a tail of infected desperately reaching for his parrying back.

Kageyama, anything but discouraged by the sight, brings his gun up with murderous intent searing a furrowed glare in his eyes. He sprints off after Hinata with his finger hot on the trigger.

Whilst running, Hinata reaches down to unsheathe a dagger from inside his boot and slashes a fatal gash across a runner's neck as he sprints by. Another runner squawks out a throat-ripping roar with arms swatting an attempting grasp at the redhead, who at first grimaces with the blade ready to slew across its face.

Kageyama squares his vision in on the runner's head before it got too close, and the Walther lets out a thundering cry as it fires a bullet straight into the runner's ear.

Zipping past the limp corpse dropping by his feet, Hinata swiftly weaves around the onslaught of infected as Kageyama finds him growing smaller and smaller the further he parries past every runner that lunges towards him. He is practically sucked into the lush forest where Kageyama loses sight of his bright orange hair.

Fear tangles a thorned grip around Kageyama's lungs when he isn't able to see Hinata. Desperation scorches at his finger pulling the trigger, causing him to fire messy shots into the runners that are in his way. The fervent desire to catch up to his redheaded friend carries Kageyama faster into the forest as he passes the aflame truck.

His vision is flushed with green hues when his blue eyes race around the thicket in dire hopes to distinguish a head of orange-red hair. But the colors only drip with leafy overgrowth as no fiery tones prevail any wash of relief within Kageyama.

"Hinata—!!" Kageyama calls out, his throat drawing tight at the sheer sound of panic.

The loud cry crumbles to a chest-lurching grunt when Kageyama sways forward at the pounce of an infected on his back.

A contorting moan roars from the runner when its hands scrabble and twist a grip around Kageyama's neck, its fingernails digging a cough out of him. Blood smears down his jaw in a long swipe from the runner's hand, and before the raven can instinctively straighten back up, he raises the pistol over his shoulder and blindly fires a shot directly adjacent to his left ear.

The bullet carries a transient sound before the world vanquishes into near-silence around Kageyama. All he knows is that the weight on his back lifts and no bite was anchored into his neck.

A cursory grunt flies a breathy ' _fuck'_ out of Kageyama's lips, but the word is silent from his left side. A long and endless ring gyrates into that side of Kageyama's head, and it has him cupping it in an attempt to appease the stunning pain.

Dense pressure filling Kageyama's ear to brim has him swaying with a headache, his open-palmed grip never leaving its spot at the side of his skull.

A runner's erratic cry carries full clarity into Kageyama's right ear as it's untouched by the sharp pain occupying the other. He turns towards the sound and fires at the runner's face, sending scarlet splatters to slew across his right cheek as the blood languidly grazes a warm path down the heat-prickled skin at Kageyama's neck.

"Kageyama, look out!" Hinata's muffled voice cries out with clear distinction of panic from behind him, and fresh relief immediately cascades through Kageyama in a burst.

He spins back to catch sight of Hinata, to berate him for being such a goddamn fast runner, but the lugging weight of a runner topples Kageyama down to the dirt-sanded ground before he can even utter a word.

The persistent pain throbbing at Kageyama's ear does flips in his head when it crashes into the pile of twigs on the ground. He hears the runner's smothered growls panting hot against his face, its teeth baring out hungrily at Kageyama's unbitten flesh. He rigidly holds an arm against its chest as slick crimson blood drips a stretched line down the runner's mouth, hanging with a light pendulous swing over Kageyama's brow.

The burdening pressure lifts from Kageyama as fast as it had initially landed. His gaze dizzily lifts to watch Hinata yank the runner back by its hair and drive his dagger into its neck. The growls turn to screeches when Hinata drags the deeply plunged blade across its throat, causing waterfalls of blood to burst and unfurl between splits of gashed skin.

It's when Hinata unhands his grip in the runner's hair and pulls his dagger out that Kageyama hears the redhead release a tight shout as if it's of victory. The runner falls to the ground lifelessly after splashing drops of its own crimson remains on Hinata's face.

Hinata's eyes blink furiously with red-swashed lips drawing open in reticent disbelief at what he had just done to the runner. It now lays bathing in its own blood on the dirt, the same blood that now soils Hinata's pale hands.

Hinata looks down at Kageyama clobbering up on his feet as he blinks uneasily at the latter. "You... I thought you were—" Hinata starts, the sound of his voice still partially cloaked with slowly dissipating ringing in Kageyama's ear.

"Shut it, and save your breath for another run." Kageyama catches the festering movement of runners approaching behind Hinata from afar.

Hinata doesn't return a response when Kageyama shoves him back where the former had originally appeared. Despite both their limbs throbbing and growing sore to the point that it's numb, they run with searing speed.

Kageyama pumps his arms to pick up a sprint, and an ache in his side begins to bloom. His mouth is parched dry upon panting out heavy breaths, and he swallows his saliva thickly with pain at the back of his throat pulsing while doing so. It's then that Kageyama realizes that he is desperately thirsty for a drink of water.

But Miwa took his water back in the truck and never gave it back.

Now an ache cranes into the fibers of Kageyama's heavily-breathing chest upon thinking of his sister.

_Where is she?_ The question weighs like lead down Kageyama's thoughts. His feet ache, with every step crunching on a path of untouched twigs as he compulsively ponders on his sister's whereabouts.

Shining ahead through the swathed overgrowth of trees is a slivering glimpse of an empty highway. The sight boosts a pump of hope in the pair as they run faster, in spite of their belief that they can't proceed to do so any longer.

Tranquility finally encroaches between them and their panicked steps when they reach the light of the afternoon sun beaming over the bare road.

Kageyama feels his back shaking at each exhale of breath as hazes blur his vision in and out like shuttering lights. He feels his knees unhinge into a crouch as coughs begin flaring out in retches at the ground.

Hinata has stopped running as well amongst the undisturbed highway. But alarm stakes across the savoring moment of peace when he watches Kageyama croaking out a rasped exhale at the pavement below.

"Kageyama..." Hinata says with a whimper.

"I'm— fine—" Kageyama growls out in an attempt to fight another cough. But he could throw up if he really wanted. "Just... shut up and catch your breath."

"Say that into a mirror, won't you? You're doing worse than I am!"

Kageyama shoots a dark glare up at Hinata from under his disheveled bangs. The latter makes a receding step back, but his lips are lined shut upon Kageyama's silent threat.

A hard gulp of air is forced down Kageyama's throat as if he is swallowing rocks. The steady rise and falls of his chest become more apparent as the minutes pass, and he never realized how numb his hand was until all feeling begins flushing back into his fingertips.

"Kageyama..."

"What?" Kageyama gruffs out, unsure as to why he is so irritated.

"Where is everyone?" Hinata asks weakly, his eyes searching around at the deserted road.

The question sinks low like an anchor down the pit of Kageyama's gut. Because hell, he's wondering the same thing.

"Not here." Kageyama resorts to witty deadpan as he straightens up with sore pain biting down his back.

He meets Hinata's gaze that slowly lifts as the taller male stands. "I can _see_ that." Hinata murmurs, but the tone isn't spiteful or rude; it's crestfallen.

"Then I don't know."

Hinata stiffens. "We have to find them." He turns back to the thicket they had just come from.

"No." Kageyama plants an unpermissive grasp on Hinata's arm that earns himself a softened glower from the redhead.

"Why?" Hinata's voice cracks with a spasmodic quaver in his words. His face is curled into a frail image that could either be of emotional or physical pain, judging by how Kageyama can't tell how tense his grip is at his arm.

_Because they're dead_. Kageyama thinks but refrains from saying since he doesn't _absolutely_ know that they're all dead. But even laying such an assumption on Hinata will only instill despair into him with the potential of rendering him into an unresponsive state. It'll be like taking the batteries out of him.

And so he rewords. "Because it'll be dangerous to go through there again."

The statement doesn't waver Hinata in the slightest. It's as if he doesn't care. Which is what unsettles Kageyama the most.

"Natsu... I need to know where Natsu is." Hinata visibly shudders at such a sentence, and Kageyama can almost _see_ the image of Natsu's bright face flashing across the eyes of Hinata's mind. "I'm not going anywhere until I find her."

A sincere promise is wreathed in that sentence. Hinata is shockingly stubborn like a rock despite being such an easygoing person by nature. Once every blue moon will Hinata be obstinate, but his sister's sake has him especially blindsided by this trait. Kageyama is all too aware of the extent to which Hinata will go to find his sister, even if it might cost his life in the end.

And so he lies. "I saw Miwa take her."

The lie is like a sharp drill digging a deep home inside Kageyama for the remorse to settle into. It's a home and feeling that Kageyama will not be able to extricate for a _long time_.

The buds hope that bloom into Hinata's eyes rots away at Kageyama more than he had predicted. His throat has never been as parched as now, whether it is of thirst or not. But if Hinata is to realize the lie, there is no foretelling as to what he will do.

So Kageyama asserts a firm expression in hopes that the other male will not be able to see straight through him.

"Really?" Hinata says incredulously, his face lifting with relief. The look almost has Kageyama breaking under the surface of such a hefty lie.

Except he only finds himself unpleasantly surprised at how persistent he is.

"Yeah, I saw them before I got into the forest." A souring sensation falls down Kageyama's lips and into the bogs of his mind where he can feel it festering. "Miwa had her and they took off with—" He clears his throat after it cracks nervously. "—with the rest of the colony."

"The rest of the colony." Hinata mindlessly parrots, almost like he's convincing himself to believe it.

"What's left of them," Kageyama says with a faltering voice. "They probably avoided the route we took because it was loaded with runners."

"Do you know where they headed?" Hinata turns himself away from the forest and towards Kageyama, and that at least comforts him.

Kageyama returns a slow shake of his head since his lips won't allow another false word to slip.

Uncertain despair creeps up on Hinata's quivering lip, and he pulls himself out of the grip Kageyama has on his arm. But he doesn't run off, nor does he verbalize anything that is clearly strewn across his askance expression at the ground.

"What do we do?" Hinata's voice peters out into a fragile tone. His orange hair curtains over his lowered expression staring straight down at his scarlet-red hands. His fingers curl and uncurl against the sticky residue of blood that is beginning to cake beneath his fingernails.

Kageyama looks down at his own hands that are not nearly as bloody as Hinata's, but one run of his fingers across his face has him feeling a smear streaking across his cheekbone. When he draws his hand away, it's dripped with thick blood settling mustily onto his skin. His gun is also splattered with blood, especially at the muzzle even though Kageyama doesn't know how so much of it got there.

A slight tremor starts picking up at Kageyama's wrist when he clenches his left hand. He cringes when he feels the blood squish between his knuckles while it gathers at his fingertips. Kageyama has become far too familiar with the disorientingly vibrant hue and the metallic stench of blood these past few months.

It's something he'd rather forget. But he figures he would have had to come face to face with the real world someday after being sheltered behind walls almost all his life.

The need for a plan has Kageyama looking up at the empty highway. Nothing but sun-dried concrete stretches a path ahead. Tarnished cars lay dead like corpses beside the road without blockage, and grass spills out of each shattered window with an ambiance of abandonment.

_Utsunomiya in 3.5km_. Kageyama reads the scrawls of faded white words on the rusted blue sign.

"Whoever is left of the colony," Kageyama nudges Hinata without a glance, "Should still be heading to Hamamatsu. We just need to get there too. On our own."

_On our own_ has Kageyama stilling the shudder that runs up his shoulders. He has to stave off the internal panic starting to flank at his sense of sanity.

On their own. They are on their own.

Kageyama doesn't look back at Hinata in fear of unfastening the web of lies he has spun in order to keep the latter around. The false reality of their sisters' safety that Kageyama had painted for Hinata will keep them both afloat. Mostly for the latter's sake.

"Let's go, so we can catch up," Kageyama says, and Hinata begrudgingly follows with his gaze still down at the ground.

If there is anything Kageyama has learned this day, it's that he is a devilish liar.

\--

The pendant is circular and is almost as small as a bottle cap, perhaps a little bigger. It's abraded beyond age, but the characters are still legible beneath every white claw of a scratch.

_Kageyama Kazuyo - 000110_.

When Kageyama flips the pendant over in his palm, the Fireflies symbol is engraved in black and in far better condition than the name on the back.

"Kageyama Kazuyo." Suga reads aloud with a ponder that has him looking up at the raven. "Is that your name?"

Kageyama shakes his head as he clips the chain necklace behind his neck with a soft click. "Kazuyo is my grandfather. He was the head Firefly doctor before he settled in Morioka." He hides the pendant under his grey shirt so it's out of view. "It's why the Fireflies were willing to help us. Because of the old man."

"And because of _you_." Hinata pipes in from beside Kageyama. The former sits at the arm of the couch behind Kageyama with a single leg propped up into an unhinged bend at the knee. "No person would be dumb enough to not help a colony that has an immune person."

"So you're saying you're immune," Daichi states from his spot on the floor beside the couch.

" _They_ said that I'm immune." Kageyama redresses before nodding up at Suga sitting beside him. "And that makes _him_ immune too. But whether or not someone tells me that I'm immune though, doesn't matter. Because even without a doctor telling me what I can see for myself, it's pretty obvious."

"You say it's obvious, but four years went by without us even suspecting some sort of immunity." Daichi retorts.

The brevity of Kageyama's sigh has his eyes blinking closed with thought. But he raises his gaze before a silent pause can even be deciphered between them. "Have you ever been in a room full of spores?"

"Of course." Daichi and Suga respond in near unison.

"Well, if you're immune, you don't need a gas mask." Kageyama darts his gaze between the pair before settling it on Suga. "You can breathe all the spores you want, and you won't turn."

Suga slightly rocks back in surprise. "That's—"

"Weird? Crazy? Yeah, it is." A half-moon smile crests on Kageyama's lips as a grin. "But I've breathed enough spores to make someone turn within mere hours... and nothing."

"I can vouch for his case." Hinata's bright-eyed gaze peeks out from behind Kageyama's muss of dark hair to catch Suga and Daichi's attention. "As much of an angry, loud, and violent butt he can be, he's never been as angry as those infected fellows."

Kageyama juts a berating elbow back behind him at Hinata and smirks at the yelp of pain that is elicited from him.

"I was _helping_ , Bakageyama..." Hinata murmurs down to himself while running a soothing touch up and down his left arm.

"That was the most backhanded help _I've_ ever gotten."

"You either get it backhanded or none at all!" Hinata exclaims.

When Kageyama turns back at the shorter male to whisper an indecipherable insult, Suga's shoulders slightly shake with a small laugh. Even a blithe smile parts his lips to show a sliver of his teeth. He's entertained, and the sight of him being entertained is what strikes Daichi so much as ethereal.

Daichi clears his throat with an authoritative rumble to break apart the other pair's subdued bickering. The method works like a charm because Hinata folds his arms away into his baggy red sweatshirt with a pout, while Kageyama returns his blue-eyed scowl that may or may not just be his resting face judging by how often it appears.

"Hinata," Suga's voice tapers tentatively as the addressed male perks up with innocent wide eyes, "You said that you guys were attacked?"

The topic visibly lowers Hinata's face into a pensive look at the ground. His lashes blink over his brown eyes that are dulled with deep thought.

"Yeah." The light in Hinata's buoyant voice has stilled to a downcast mutter, his lips barely moving. "We were. It was at the beginning of summer when the Fireflies had started frequenting the settlement."

"They were arranging for me to travel with them to Hamamatsu, where a team of doctors would be able to study me in depth." Kageyama continues. "They said they needed it to be thorough, especially because there was a failed attempt at a cure, years back."

"But before they could make official arrangements—" Hinata strays on.

"The military invaded the settlement. They were from Sendai, looking for a new place to establish a government quarantine after the one in Sendai became overrun with infected," Kageyama says. "And because they found out the Fireflies were helping us... and anything the Fireflies do, _they must eradicate."_ The sarcastic mockery is crass in the raven's embittering tone.

_Sendai military— overrun_. The words silently occupy the face of Daichi and Suga's thoughts. It's surreal to believe that the place they grew up in is now nothing but an infected wasteland.

"Our colony was so happy." Hinata smiles sadly to himself. "The elders always said that life within the walls of the settlement is almost like how life was before the infection." He looks up at Daichi and Suga with a twinkle in his eyes that is painfully joyful to look into. "We had _electricity_. And monthly community dances, Christmas celebrations during the winter, and—"

"Hinata." Kageyama nudges an elbow at the male, but with less hostility. The shields of his irises are even lulled with a soft, but subtle sheen of crumbling despair that Kageyama is casting away from the other pair's sight.

And for the first time since Daichi and Suga have seen them, Hinata does not protest.

"Right... sorry." Hinata pipes down to a low tone. His hands in his lap twist and fold his sweatshirt sleeves till wrinkles crease into them. "I just..."

"I know." A small hiss hides behind Kageyama's voice, but even _his_ tone is softening.

"...okay.." Hinata says with a child-like purse of his lips.

The topic is successfully staved off, but the remains of it bring down the atmosphere to a thick silence. Not even a pyre of enthusiasm is left in Hinata's attentive stare, leaving no ray of light-heartedness to salvage the conversation. Sympathy melds like dripping tar down Suga and Daichi's silent faces, and more so in the caverns of their chest.

After a brief moment of listening to the birds tweeting outside, Suga says what he thinks is the most appropriate. "I'm sorry..." Something about it being the Sendai military to have initiated the violence parts unneeded guilt into Suga.

But Kageyama seems to not even want to regard the apology. As if regarding the apology would still be regarding the memories he'd rather leave behind.

"Right before the military could instate their oppressive rule over the colony, the Fireflies gathered up most of the colony and decided to take us to Hamamatsu with them." Kageyama brisks past the silence. "We had to leave some people behind. Because some were too old, or just refused to leave their homes. But after weeks of traveling and making our way through Japan, we were attacked by the military. Again. Right outside Utsunomiya."

"Casualties?" Daichi asks a bit too formally.

"Don't know. We had to stop because the highway was blocked, and while we took a rest, there came a helicopter." Kageyama exhales a soul-heavy sigh. "Just started shooting us. With a sniper at first, I think. But then it turned to something... faster. And then grenades—"

"There were infected," Hinata says, almost as a solemn reminder.

The grim look that subtly drops on Kageyama's face crystallizes Suga's into a fragile one that crinkles his lips slightly down.

"There were infected." Kageyama murmurs as an echo. "Hinata and I got separated from the rest of what's left of the colony. And the rest has gotten us up to _this_ point, here."

"Yup." Hinata drones spiritlessly with his eyes drilled down to his fiddling hands. His right-hand picks at the bandages wrapped around his left palm, simultaneously as to when his attention lifts to the browned hue of his blood on the spiked metal gate by the stairs. The stairs where he had carelessly injured his hand. "We've made it this far on our own, but..."

He and Kageyama were so desperate for supplies then, that everything other than their dire need was blurred, including where the redhead was grabbing.

"But now, we can have you guys, right?" Hinata turns his eyes to Daichi and Suga, who have been attentive during their times of silence.

"Hinata..." Kageyama mumbles partially to the side towards Hinata.

"This is why we're talking to them, you know." Hinata frowns with a retort. "To have them join us. They have someone like you too."

"What I _mean_ , is don't expect them to agree right away." Kageyama corrects sourly. "You're pressuring them."

"Hamamatsu, you said?" Daichi interjects right before Hinata can fire back another word.

"Yeah," Kageyama nods at the brunette with affirmation, "we're still heading there. The Fireflies will be waiting."

The query Daichi had spoken has Suga curiously gazing at him with surprise. Outright rejection is Daichi's usual response, but given that that's not what had unfolded, Suga finds himself unable to predict what Daichi is _really_ insinuating.

"Do you know how to get there?" Daichi asks.

A tad touch of embarrassment settles on Kageyama's face, and on Hinata's too. "No, not really..." Kageyama says.

"We don't either..." Daichi trails off.

_With a pessimistic mind like yours, the cure to mankind will never even be a possibility._ Daichi can hear it dripping reflections around his head like some curse. But he relents when he knows the veracity in the phrase.

"But, we do know some people in the city who might know the best way there." Daichi trickles his gaze up at Suga, who returns a look that is acutely pressed with incredulity. But Daichi doesn't know whether to receive the look as pleasantly surprised, or utterly puzzled. Perhaps both.

But for now, Suga inquires at Daichi of something else. "We do?"

"We do." Daichi nods slowly as if it's a given that Suga should certainly not have forgotten.

"Does this mean—" Bright vivacity quickly relights a small spark in Hinata's features when he sits up hopefully, "—that you're coming with us?"

"What else do you think, dumbass?" Kageyama snorts. "They're just gonna take us all the way out into the city for no damn reason, cause _that's_ totally not a big waste of their time." The sharp sarcasm sends Hinata into a stuttering fit of defense that Kageyama merely mocks with constant witty banter.

Now Daichi is left soaking under the weight of Suga's inquiring stare.

"What's got _you_ pulling a 180 all of a sudden?" Suga asks with a pleased grin pulling faintly at the edge of his lips.

"Dunno, maybe something that went like, ' _pessimistic mind, no cure for mankind'_ ," Daichi says without anything remotely close to an embittering tone. If anything, an exiguous smile is displayed on his self-amused face.

Except the remark has Suga looking off to the side guiltily, his grin faltering. "Right... look, I—" Suga begins to form an apology at the tip of his tongue.

But an apology is certainly not what Daichi was trying to elicit. "Wait, no, _don't_ say sorry." Daichi quickly encroaches on Suga's words as he sits up with a hand waving side to side to stop the other male. "Because you were right."

"Of course I was right, but I could have worded it better." Suga bends his features down into a curling look.

"Ouch, _okay_. Still going for the kill, aren't you?" Daichi light-heartedly chuckles up at Suga's smile that has the apples of his cheeks glowing against the sunlight from the window. "I can't tell if you're kidding."

Suga simply shrugs with agonizing obscurity in his answer. "Dunno, maybe I'll let your imagination do the work on that."

"You shameless sadist," Daichi says with a cheeky grumble.

The brunette casts a checking glance at Kageyama and Hinata, who are still squabbling pettily as if they have their own world that circles around them and their banter. It's safe to say that they are not paying any special regards to Daichi when he slips a hand to Suga's own sitting in his lap, winding their fingers together like braided strings.

"Though it makes me wonder," Suga looks down at Daichi's hand meandered around his palm, eyes dragging down the tough skin there, "What genius plan do you have for such an adventure?"

A prudent look brings Daichi's chin to tip to the side, his eyes narrowing sideways at the ground. "I have _some_ thing in mind." He murmurs more to himself than as a reply to Suga. "I'd have to speak to Kuroo."

A cursory laugh pops from Suga's smile with sheer jest. "Because _that_ always gets you coming back chipper."

A dry look flattens Daichi's stare into a stale silence that lets the pair listen to the erratic quips cracking between Kageyama and Hinata beside them, completely oblivious.

"It's always the highlight of my month." Daichi deadpans with _zero_ levels of integrity braced in his tone.

"But he's pretty responsive with the deals," Suga says.

"Yeah, with a side of jackassery."

"Deal with a jackass? Or no deal at all?" Suga asks, shooting a thin brow upon his face. "Take your pick."

"You've never seen his face up close, it makes you wanna shoot a cartridge up his ass."

"Hmm, I wonder _who_ won't let me get to see him up close."

"Touche." Daichi sighs in with a weak smile.

Although it's a usually bitter topic, no tension creases in Suga's features. Only a dulcet look appears when he chimes a word of guileless victory to Daichi.

But on the other side of the couch, something far less innocent wages between the _eccentric_ pair.

"Bakageyama!" Hinata practically yells into Kageyama's ear, causing him to rear away jarringly.

"Say it again and I'll make sure to leave you as food for the infected when we leave for Hamamatsu." Kageyama throws an empty threat in Hinata's face, but he feigns sincerity with it.

Hinata shudders at the thought, whether it is genuine or not. "At least give me _something_ to defend myself with if that ever happens." A sudden, but beaming smile parts on Hinata's lips upon a certain thought crossing his mind pleasantly. "But, for real... I'm glad we have some help this time."

"Don't let your guard down too much," Kageyama lowers his tone quietly.

"They're _helping us_ , Kageyama." Hinata leans in from his seat on the arm of the couch to peer closely into Kageyama's face, to the point every breath Hinata makes brisks across Kageyama's cheeks. "They're coming with us to see the colony. It's better to learn how to trust them instead of constantly being on guard."

Hinata's lowered voice vibrates under every surface of Kageyama's skin with a warm feeling, but the latter is not disconcerted. At least on the outside, he isn't.

"I'll learn my way around things at my own pace, and you can worry about your own ways." Kageyama tenses out. "I'm just here to remind you to not get too carried away with all this friendship stuff, or else you'll get seriously hurt."

As offended as Kageyama expects Hinata to be, Hinata only gives back a sweet smile. His brown eyes are shining, and by the close proximity of his gaze, Kageyama can discern every dark speckle freckling his pupils like golden dust.

"I know, and that's why I need you around," Hinata replies with no jest laced around his tone.

Silence keeps Kageyama speechless as a strange beam flips in his gut. For once, Kageyama's witty remarks have reached an end. Temporarily, at least. His face is void of any distinguishing thought from what Hinata can observe, and his attempts to study Kageyama by searching through his intent, blue eyes, blooms a still-streamed flow of tranquility in Kageyama.

As if he is at peace.

"Thanks, Kageyama." Hinata suddenly speaks, the soft touch of joy padding his tone tenderly. "Once we get out of this alive, and we're back with the colony, I'll make sure to tell Natsu that you're a freaking hero."

The peace streaming inside Kageyama is then abruptly overturned, quickly solidifying into burdening guilt at the mention of Natsu. It drags, and it weighs, like cases of lead pulling his thoughts into a silent panic masked by an indifferent face. And suddenly he is aware again, of how slowly but surely the feeling is withering away at him inside.

Deep inside, where a dark corral made especially for this feeling resides, in which Kageyama did not know existed until now. And it probably hadn't until the time he uttered the lie took place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [On the Road Again - Jack Broadbent](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MKQQDJhLeLQ)
> 
> I have recently just made a [tumblr](http://celestiallypotatoish.tumblr.com/) account! I'll probably be posting some wips if I feel like it, posting art, and answering questions/prompts! Won't be super dedicated or serious, but it's just there if anyone would like to just interact with me :].
> 
> Feel free to comment or whatnot!


	5. Smoke and Crossfires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Hinata," Suga starts, his voice quiet but his eyes never turning to look at him. It sends an anxiety-spiking shiver down to Hinata's toes. "When I say go, you're gonna take off in the other direction into town."_
> 
> _Hinata has to take a double-take to process the words, and his heart nearly stops._

Fall has heavily strewn the sky with an onslaught of grey clouds. The town looks asleep with its slow, dreary atmosphere bearing a colorless sight wherever Hinata turns. The week has gone by without another threat, and if time is being calculated correctly, it should be Saturday by now.

"Hinata."

The sound of his name being addressed has Hinata splitting his gaze away from the yellow-hued spray paint on the brick wall beside him.

_Hell is raised, and all must ———_

No amount of staring could make Hinata decipher the last few characters. It has never been news to the redhead that he isn't the best at reading.

Suga stands further down the bleary street, patiently waiting for Hinata as the silence hangs between them. The older male wears a friendly face with no trace of malice hiding behind such bright eyes. It has Hinata baffled at how the other is able to maintain a tender attitude. Suga even smiles at him when Hinata's attentive eyes flash over to him at the call of his name.

"Is everything alright?" Suga asks with a guileless tilt of his head. A rifle sits in his grip, positioned diagonally in front of him with a dangling strap dipping below the firearm.

The tips of Hinata's fingers smooth out the edge of his hood before he idly twists the drawstrings between his knuckles.

"Yeah! I'm just—" Hinata pockets his cold-pricked hands into the sweatshirt pockets, "—looking a lot. I'm sorry I'm dragging behind. You can go ahead, Suga-san. I'll catch up."

A close-lipped smile rounds Suga's cheekbones innocently. He turns halfway back, nodding in the other direction where the road leads ahead.

"I'll wait for all I can. It's best if we stick together, so come on over." The genuineness of Suga's voice has Hinata wondering if he even deserves such treatment. Whether or not he should be indulging in the kindness is tottering like two sides of a scale in Hinata's mind. However, doubt for Suga's intentions does not weigh at Hinata. Therefore, he does as he is told and catches up with the other male on the asphalt.

The road is touched with a dark, damp color from the rainfall of the previous night. Drops of lingering rain star the surfaces of broken cars like rhinestones, with a few stray droplets drizzling down the sloping curve of each streetlamp, roof, and leaf that sit openly under the sky. The timid sounds the drips make never allow complete silence to settle in around them.

The air is sharp with a cool temperature keeping Hinata awake. The chilly evening brushes strokes of tingling numbness on his cheeks, and it does its job in fending off the aftermath of a restless night of sleep.

With trust steadily building at a slow rhythm, Suga had decided to ask Hinata to help him scavenge a part of town that he hasn't explored in a while. Daichi had headed north to meet with Kuroo, and Kageyama is not in the most ideal shape to be up and moving. He _has_ gotten better, but his limbs are still sluggish despite the raven's declarations of them not being so.

But injured or not, Suga thought it best to take Hinata along with him since he's the _easier_ one of the two. Because regardless of them scavenging together, a week is not nearly enough time to remedy the tension between the two pairs. Especially Kageyama and Daichi. But constantly evading and dancing around the tension won't make it go away either.

"Can I ask how old you are, Hinata?" Suga asks, not looking down at the other male as he is occupied by keeping his eyes peeled on the long strip of the road.

"I'm seventeen." Hinata bashfully chirps down to the ground. "Is it cause I'm short, that you asked?"

An enchanting laugh has Suga smiling ethereally. "I don't think there's anything wrong with your height if that's what you're thinking," Suga says. Hinata's eyes practically glow when they look up at Suga, who returns a look from the side of his eye. "Though I'd be lying if I said that your small stature didn't have me questioning. But I find your small size to be quite an advantage, really."

"An advantage?" Hinata's body shifts to fully tend his attention to Suga as he walks.

"Yeah, it makes you far defter."

"Defter?"

"Defter, as in, you're quicker. And skillful too." Suga slacks down to the side towards Hinata with a devious smirk. "I mean, you got Daichi pretty good in the leg. That in itself should be impressive, judging that he tends to fall under the assumption that he's immortal and untouchable by injury. Kinda puts him in his place, ya know?"

A mischievous wink bats Suga's eyes closed as he raises a finger to his lips hushedly. It leaves Hinata wide-eyed with intrigue.

"But don't tell him I said that. Just a thing between you and me, alright?" Suga jests out.

Hinata eagerly nods his head up and down to convey understanding, maintaining an amused chuckle as he does so. "Does Daichi-san really think he's immortal?"

"Well, no, probably not. Not in his head, at least." Suga shrugs when he straightens back up. "But... he has his ways of showing otherwise. Actions speak louder than words, right?"

A turn in the road has the edge of a corner shop coming into view. Its foundation is made of bricks that are embellished by the wild twists and contortions of evergreen vines. Its windows are shattered beyond presence, as expected, with its frame eaten away by rot. The maroon door of the entrance is completely unhinged and lays flat on the floor of the shop, with footprints pressed freshly on its surface.

Hinata follows behind Suga when the latter approaches the entrance carefully. He leans a touch forward to inspect the tracks on the door. The sludge of mud is subtle in its shape before dripping out into a mixture of dirtied water.

"That looks..." Hinata steps up beside Suga to join in on inspecting.

Suga juts out an arm in front of Hinata to stop him from walking further in. "Fresh, yeah. But be careful. It could mean..." Suga murmurs as his voice peters out at the end without completion. His eyes never meet Hinata's when they sweep across the shadowed expanse of the room.

A few sniffs are drawn in by the ashen-haired male when he peeks his head through the doorway vigilantly. It prompts Hinata to do the same, sniffing the air out of pure curiosity of Suga doing so. And the smell once discerned, is hard to _un-_ smell. It's a foul stench, putrid to the point it shoots directly to Hinata's head, enough to make him almost gag.

Something _has_ to be dead.

Such a sign should be enough to drive someone away from the sheer overwhelming odor, as well as the possibility that whatever caused the demise of the odor's origin could still be around. The fresh prints on the door should also accompany that, but Suga doesn't seem to relent to the warnings. It makes Hinata wonder if the other is even scared.

But one look at Suga's profile has Hinata distinguishing the subtle shiver of fear making its way out of Suga's chest through stilted breaths. But it's strikingly well-composed.

Suga advances a few more steps through the entryway to stand tall inside the shop. A sudden but subdued throat-rippling croak rattles from the darkness beside him, and he whirls in the direction of the noise with apprehension amplifying the swiftness of his movements.

Before Hinata can even shout in warning, a fungal-masked stalker reveals itself in the light of day, ready to croak out a dry-mouthed cry. Except its blood-painted lips, or rather what's left of it, is left agape when the sound of a bullet fractures the croak from rolling completely off the stalker's goosefleshed tongue.

_Clack! Clack!_

The warning clogs back in Hinata's throat as he recedes a step at the sound. His thoughts scatter at the sheer piercing volume of the double gunfire. The floorboards beneath him rumble with a heavy thump as he recedes yet another step. A slowly expanding puddle of deep red blood sits under Hinata's stare at the floor, leaving him to realize that it's the stalker that had met its demise.

Suga finally huffs out a loud sigh as if he's been clutching onto his breath like it was his last. He lowers the rifle from its fixed aim at the stalker, which now lays dead at his feet with its fungal face pressed flush against the mud-tracked footprints. It's clear that the foul stench was from the stalker because the odor is the strongest Hinata can possibly imagine it to be.

The strong, slow breath Suga inhales from between his lips has his shoulders rising. It permeates serenity back into his eyes like a soaking sponge, and he better grasps himself from the shock.

"That was close..." Hinata mutters down at the limp stalker that is sprouted from head to shoulder with yellow-grey fungi.

A thin smile descries covertly on Suga's reassuring face. "Yeah, pretty close," Suga says with a smooth, articulate tone. "Stalkers... they sure do live by that name."

He steps over the corpse after silently nodding at Hinata to follow him, in which he does without lingering this time.

Ornate patterns swirl around the walls of the shop, each carved image dipping deep into the structure of polished wood. Black rot creeps down the nude-colored wallpaper, even peeling from the bottom up like frayed pages of a book. Brown stains that massacre the wooden vinyl shelves are quickly cognized as old blood, and Hinata steps past without a sparing glance in hopes to avoid its musty odor.

A circular ray of white light spills out from the small periscope-shaped flashlight that's tied snugly to the strap of Suga's backpack. It shines and touches almost every dark corner above the shelves whenever Suga turns. The shop's small size and the short vinyl stands allow the place to be declared clear of any other infected when Suga sweeps his vision all around the room.

Hinata's fingertips burn with explorative curiosity, almost like a magnetic force. The first thing to appease the sensation is a packed stack of magazines on top of the vinyl shelf beside him, where there _isn't_ any vinyl growing old and burning with the lack of touch.

The pages immediately crinkle when Hinata peels one issue back, drawing Suga's eyes behind at the boy before smiling.

"You like reading?" Suga asks.

Hinata's hand retreats from the magazine as if he isn't allowed to touch it. His eyes find Suga's inquiring over at him. "No, I'm not really _good_ at it..." Hinata lets out a sheepish chuckle. Recognizing Suga's efforts to know more about Hinata, he decides to return the same. "How about you, Suga-san?"

Reminiscence clouds Suga's expression happily. "I love it, a lot. I had a whole collection back when I was a trainee in Sendai." The look starts collapsing in on itself when hazel eyes drag down to the floor. "I wonder what they did with it."

"Who?" Hinata raises a brow.

Suga shakes his head, but he still provides an answer. "I was supposed to be a soldier in the military. But Daichi and I abruptly left, so I don't know what happened to my collection of books and magazines."

"Oh."

"It's not a sad story, I can always find more."

"But, Suga-san?" Hinata backtracks, earning a curious shoot up of Suga's brows. "Suga-san, a soldier?"

Amusement has Suga curling his face questioningly. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know..." Hinata beams off to the side as he rubs his knuckles together inside his sweatshirt pocket. "Suga-san is just... not mean enough to be a soldier."

Suga slightly nods his head up with an astonishing look, but he's perceivably pleased by the statement. "Hmmm, maybe I should be meaner then?" He jests.

"Please don't," Hinata sighs with a wry smile. "Kageyama is already mean enough to me."

"But I'm sure if he meant half the things he said, he wouldn't have kept you around all this time," Suga assures. His words aren't sleazy with an assumption. It seems as if Suga just knows. "Feel free to correct me, but Kageyama doesn't appear to be the type to lug around people that he doesn't care about."

The surprise on Hinata's face at Suga's statement is a surprise within itself.

"He cares about me?" Hinata asks as if it was never clear before.

"Of course," Suga chuckles at the pure epiphanic joy on the younger's expression. "I've seen it on his face."

"His face? He just looks scary all the time..."

"Which makes it all the easier to spot the changes in expression."

"Changes in expression..." Hinata mumbles thoughtlessly. "But... I never really see it."

Intrigue has Suga cocking his head to the side as he leans against one of the sturdy vinyl shelves by the hip. His pointer finger rests on the trigger guard of the rifle, still being passively alert.

"Kageyama never looks scared. Even when we were escaping the attack on the highway." Hinata's adam's apple quivers at a nervous swallow of the memory. "The moment the gunshots started, he knew what to do. The entire way through, he just directed me back to safety without ever looking scared and..."

Hinata tips his chin up to aim an endearingly enthralled expression at Suga. "I don't know, but all I can say is that he's so cool." He smiles when he says it, every twitch of his lips growing with a reflexive need to gleam with admiration.

Suga could practically see rhinestones in Hinata's eyes as a soft gaze filters onto the former's face.

"I'm sure he's still scared on the inside," Suga says.

"Yeah, but he's good at putting on a show that he isn't." Hinata's presses his arms against his side with a shudder. "I can never do something like that. Be cool like him. Because I'm always scared."

"I don't know if this is bursting a bubble," Suga says with a one-shouldered shrug. "But maybe Kageyama is just as scared as you are."

A contemplative nod bobs up Hinata's head up and down. "I'd consider it."

But it isn't fully believed.

_Bzz, bzz._

Suga turns back at the sound, almost too suddenly that it alarms Hinata, who didn't hear the low buzzes at first. But the stillness capturing Suga's stance lets Hinata hear small, _un_ alarming buzzes that have him recollecting the noise as something he heard a lot back in the Morioka park during springtime. He fondly recalls Natsu being particularly terrified of the buzzes as she would shout, _Shouyou! Shouyou! Bugs! Ah!_

So the sound must belong to mere flies.

Suga is already wordlessly walking off in the direction of the noise, and Hinata follows with the same manner of silence. They walk down the aisle of vinyl shelves, each one getting taller and taller the further they walk. But the continuation abruptly stops when the tallest shelf lays collapsed on the floor at the end of the wall, even upturning the shorter shelves beside it into a near domino effect.

A wide streak of fresh red blood starts clawing a trail down the cream-colored aisle below their feet. Following it increases a new metallic smell that is a doubtless recognition of something dead, whether it be of a carcass or corpse. Hopes for both clamors inside Suga, a carcass being of a less gut-twisting sight, and a corpse being of a great way to pocket new resources.

The globe of light from Suga's flashlight finally shines down at an answer when the bloody trail comes to a stop, and it turns out to be the latter.

"Found the culprit..." Suga strains out his throat that is taut with disgust. He raises the collar of his jacket over his nose to smell the warm fleece there instead.

The back skull of a bald man is bloodied by torn flesh, with the distinct dents of teeth pressing deeply into the scapes of the man's scalp. Sharp shards of what could only be assumed as his skull are maimed away with torn tissue underneath. If Suga could stomach the sight even further, which he can't, he could distinguish every hungry bite made into the brain.

Suga's narrowing eyes avert away from the gory exhibit to examine the other major injuries done to the man. It's strange how Suga has no particular issue with seeing any other internal organ sprawling out of someone's deathly pale body, but anything above the neck is something he will never be able to bore a stare at for too long.

The man is laying stomach down and face planted into a thick serum-like puddle of blood. The taller vinyl shelf is laying flush on his back with a burden that bears the weight of old record-players and stacks of inch-thick books.

That ruckus alone shouldn't have been _too_ hard to shake off, but above the collapsed shelf lays crumbled debris of the ceiling above. The foundation is falling apart from the top, with chunks of the brick roof sitting in piles that trammel the shelf, and ultimately, the man in place.

Suga can assume that the stalker he had killed at the entrance is also what instilled a capitulating attitude in the man after getting untimely trapped under the collapse of the building. The stalker even had a nice meal on the back of his head.

And now the leftovers are left to flies prancing around the head-spinning stench that fumes from the corpse's half-eaten brain.

"Gnarly..." Hinata breathes out at the sight, mostly looking over Suga's shoulder. His lips curl down in a crescent shape with disgust, and he is just about ready to hurl if it weren't for the forceful swallows of control he is sending down his throat. "Is he... infected?"

By the corpse's head is his hand, loosely gripping a silver revolver with limp fingers. The muzzle of the gun is pointed towards the side of the man's head with a suggestive idea of how his last moments were spent.

Suga crouches down to tip the man's head aside with a tentative finger, and it limps over to the side with ease. A slow reactive trickle of blood drips down the hole that is bored into his temple.

"I think he took himself out before he could turn," Suga mutters with a thoughtful stare in his eyes when he examines the rest of the corpse. From the chest down of the man is buried under the shelf, out of view.

An image brews in Hinata's mind as if it's playing right in front of him. The stalker, sharp-fanged and relentless, gnawing on the man's skull while he's alive and helpless under such crushing weight. The sounds are something he'd rather not imagine, and it plays out silently in his head as the man raises the gun to head, firing the final blow into his skull as a surrender to his unfortunate fate.

It's twisted, just as twisted as Hinata's chest when he berates himself for thinking up such a situation. But it's probably far from imagination, and closer to the logical truth to what happened to the man.

"Hinata, you think you can pull the man out while I lift the shelf?" Suga's calculating eyes gaze at Hinata sharply with a heavy query. His flashlight casts shadows over his features while the underside of his chin glows brightly.

A stuttering glance goes back and forth from Suga to the corpse's head.

"This man?" Hinata clarifies with a finger pointing down.

Suga emits a light laugh, ironically so when he's looming over a clear view of half-eaten brains.

"Yeah, who else, silly?"

"Well, yeah," Hinata shifts his head to the side and back as he rolls his shoulders in preparation. "I'll try... I'll try!" The enthusiasm feels misplaced, but it's the only thing that'll keep Hinata willing to touch the corpse.

"You can do it, don't worry," Suga reassures as he positions himself over the man's back, knees unhinged and knuckles folding over the edge of the shelf. "When I start lifting, just start pulling him—"

"Like this?" Hinata gives an experimental tug from his grip under the man's armpits.

"Yeah, perfect. Now let me just..." Suga's breath hitches as the tips of his knuckles start blooming a whitening color when he pulls. "—Pull—"

The word is tight in the back of Suga's throat as if the vowel is a heavyweight in his chest. Creaks begin crying out from the metal shelf, barely moving at first despite the muscles tightening at Suga's neck and collarbone area. A furious blush starts crawling up Suga's cheeks from the effort and his hold of air.

A few books and record players slide off with a fumbling crash, unburdening a few units of weight off the shelf. The tepid tumble of books is tailed by the slow slide of bricks shifting in places that make it easier for Suga to lift.

"Now— pull now!" Suga grits out through the cages of his clenching teeth. A long, low creak ensues when the metal shelf lifts from the man's back for— who knows how long.

A grunt bubbles up from Hinata in contrived tugs of air. His hands pull at the same time his heels dig insistently against the tile. The man is not heavy, but certainly not light with ease. A persistent groan draws out of the redhead's lips when he drags the man through his own puddle of blood.

As soon as the man's knees come into view, Suga has reached his limit.

Suga nearly drops the shelf with brute force on the backs of the man's knees, but he manages a softer blow when his hand lingers on the edge of the wood. The shelf still drops with a thud against the man (maybe a crack of his bones too), and the debris on top cough dust into the air beside them.

But Suga pays no mind as the numb burns of pain pulling tight under his fingers are happily appeased at the release.

"That's good enough." Suga immediately drops to his knees by the man, breaths still slightly unsteady.

Hinata kneels on the other side of the man, watching Suga pat his hands down the man's sides before digging his fingers inside the cargo jacket pockets. In his palms when he pulls his hand back out are fresh golden cartridges.

"1..2..3..." Suga mumbles to himself as his thumb nudges each round. He counts up to seven cartridges in his hand, and he does the same to the other jacket pocket where there are eight cartridges.

Suga is exceedingly punctual in shaking down all possible resources with every smooth run of his palms exploring each and every possible material that clothes the stalkily-built man. After the pants pockets turn up empty, the ashen-blonde moves onto undoing the zip of the backpack. It unfastens in one swipe before Suga's hands are carefully shuffling through the contents and pulling out whatever is necessary.

Other than a few packets of dried jerky and a barely used box of rounds, everything else is of no use to the pair.

"It's sad to say that this guy probably wasn't going to last any much longer on his own." Suga sews his lips shut into a grim stare at the supplies.

"Maybe it was better he went off like... this?" Hinata stiffens at the sentence as if it's wrong for him to say.

"Not so sure about _like this_ , but, it is far quicker than slowly dying of starvation," Suga says to himself while he reaches over the other side of the man to take the revolver from his lifeless hand. "That's if it's assumed that he didn't already have a group waiting for him."

The sleight of Suga's hand shoulders the rifle strap over his shoulder to examine the silver-dipped revolver in front of him. The handle is matte-black and rough with scratches when his fingers meander around it. He points the muzzle down as he squints his eyes to test its grip and aim. He looks suddenly up at Hinata, a suggestion speaking around his eyes even before he says anything.

"Hinata, I think you should use this." Suga holds the revolver towards Hinata, muzzle down.

Hinata blinks, his expression guileless and questioning. But he takes the revolver from the offering hand with an unhidden but tentative fervor. His eyes drag down the revolver, feeling the weight sit at the palm of his hand as his pointer finger circles around the trigger guard. It's heavy, far heavier than he thought, and scratches wear the burnished texture away.

Suga watches Hinata's hands fumble with the gun awkwardly, and it rises a question out of him.

"Have you ever used a gun?" Suga asks, holding in a laugh from how Hinata flinches, almost like he's been caught. "I noticed that you only use that dagger. I thought it was cause you simply didn't have a gun, but now you've got me thinking otherwise."

Hinata's shoulders sag, eyes watching his own fingertips swivel around the silver parts of the firearm.

"No, I haven't. I was never taught," Hinata states begrudgingly.

"And Kageyama was?"

"Kageyama was taught because he and his sister were a part of the Morioka defense team. The defense team protected the walls when raiders would attack, and were also the ones to leave the walls to go on scavenges for supply and food," Hinata replies. "But the defense team was disbanded after the military broke through."

"Only the defense team had guns?"

"No, but they were the ones who knew how to use them best."

"Well," Suga gently takes the revolver from Hinata's hands but still holds it out for the younger male to watch his demonstrations. "Revolvers are typically easy for beginners. This here is called the cylinder—" _click!_ "—and you open it like that. Using your non-dominant hand, you hold it and use your other hand to put in the rounds."

Suga takes a few rounds from the box he had just obtained and slips them into the four empty chambers, the other two having already been filled. Hinata leans over Suga's dexterous hands, absorbing the lesson as if it's the most enthralling thing he could ever witness.

"And whenever you use your six shots, point the muzzle up and push the ejector rod here to eject all the empty cartridges to fill them with new ones." The palm of Suga's hand pushes the cylinder closed and guides it to Hinata's hand, to which he folds his fingers around snugly with more confidence. "To shoot, pull the trigger all the way back for a double-action shot, or you can use the hammer and make single-action shots that way."

Hinata's finger starts curling around the trigger, much to Suga's alarm when he guides Hinata's finger away to rest it on the trigger guard instead. This elicits a shy, measly _sorry_ from Hinata, which is quickly dismissed by Suga's soft laughter.

"Though, double-action is probably better to use when you need to act fast," Suga suggests. "I can teach you more when the time comes. Or you can have Kageyama teach you!"

Hinata makes a strangled noise at that idea.

Before Hinata is able to take the gun completely into his possession, Suga's hand still lingers on the barrel with an unpermissive grab as if he is withholding a toy from the younger. Like a mother, he calls for Hinata's eyes to make sure he is giving full attention.

"But, when I give this to you, I am putting _my_ life at risk too. Understand?" Suga clarifies.

Hinata nods dutifully. He finds himself surprisingly patient for the words that he can sense at the very tip of Suga's lips like he is about to lay a whole contract on him.

"To begin with, even if you know it's not loaded, always treat the gun as if it _is_ loaded. Secondly, always keep your finger off the trigger at all times unless you are _sure_ you're going to fire a shot. Thirdly, _never_ point the muzzle at _anyone_ unless you truly know what lies beyond them. And most importantly—" Suga urges the box of rounds into Hinata's other hand, "—bullets are scarce in this world. So _only_ use it for emergencies and make _every shot count_."

A strict disposition is sharply distinct in Suga's austere voice, and it rings gravelly out his tongue in low pitches. His hazel eyes are purposeful and intensely straightforward when they look into Hinata's, making sure that the boy understands.

"Do I need you to repeat what I said, or no?" Suga raises a testing brow.

"Treat the gun as if it's loaded, keep finger off the trigger, don't point it at anyone," Hinata starts listing. "And make every shot count."

The paraphrasing is awfully simplified, but it's enough to let Suga know that the boy has a good understanding.

A pleased look casts onto Suga's face as he lets the gun go completely into Hinata's hands. Enthusiasm is luridly parading around in Hinata's eyes when he pockets a few rounds and takes the box into his backpack. He tucks the revolver away out of view as an abiding gesture to the instructions given to him.

Suga is satisfied by the response, silently thanking himself for taking Hinata along with him on the scavenge. The short redhead is easygoing and, frankly, very simple. Hopefully, Suga's judgment on his character doesn't turn out to be a precursor to something far nastier.

The shop doesn't promise them any more resourceful outcomes and is enough to drive Suga and Hinata out of there. The light of day is steadily waning little by little, and Suga takes heed of the evening sky growing gloomier by the minute. The decision to whether or not just head back home cranes insistently at the forefront of Suga's mind as they continue down the road. His thoughtful silence must have uneased Hinata to a point that he inquires at it.

"Is everything alright, Suga-san?" Hinata asks from a few steps behind.

The question encroaches on Suga's ponderous thoughts, and he looks over his shoulder at the other.

"Yeah, we're alright. Just thinking that we might have to head home... soon..." Suga's face drops when he catches sight of the other part of town ahead.

Suga knows he hasn't explored this part of town in a fairly long while, but what stares back at him is beyond how he saw it last.

Every foundation beyond the perpendicular road is collapsed and charred, presumably with fire at how dusted black the road has become. It soils the soles of Suga's shoes, leaving black prints at every advancing step he takes onto the asphalt splitting the town in two.

A disquieting feeling bumps gooseflesh behind Suga's neck. Desperation for a better turn up of supplies has him persisting further through the rows of cars that are pressed and crinkled from heat. But the unbeknownst environment is screaming at the back of his ear to turn back.

Until a scream _does_ peal from far behind, causing him to turn back as Hinata whirls around at the noise too.

Suga feels his blood picking up pace under his skin like an angry torrent. From a truck they had passed a few minutes ago, the figure of a man stumbles into view. His voice is rasped, every shout grating with harsh grits, and his voice cracks like rocks splitting. The man's gait is bent forward, his hand staying insistently at his side with an injury.

"Help! Please!" He calls out to none other than Suga and Hinata. Each step he makes is a stumble, and he totters like a drunken being. "Please help! I... I got shot on the way here, and my group, they're all dead. So please help me..."

Suga has already stopped his steps, air catching under his throat to labor his breathing. He grabs Hinata by the arm to pull him behind him. Hinata, confused but compliant, watches from behind Suga. Curiosity fills his heavy stare at the man that slowly approaches from afar.

"Do you guys have first aid? Anything? I feel really light-headed, so please, is there anything that I..." Hinata can hear a sob starting to border on the man's pleas. He's too far for any tears to be distinguished on his face, but the anguish of his cries alone is convincing enough. "Anything that I can do?"

Hinata peers over at Suga, who has on an uncharacteristically stone-cold expression. It's explicit through his slight glare that he is unmoved by the man's cries.

"Aren't we going to help him?" Hinata asks, worry starting to crown at his head. "We should, shouldn't we?"

The man is stumbling closer and closer with unceasing grief in his voice.

"Hinata," Suga starts, his voice quiet but his eyes never turning to look at him. It sends an anxiety-spiking shiver down to Hinata's toes. "When I say go, you're gonna take off in the other direction into town."

Hinata has to take a double-take to process the words, and his heart nearly stops.

"What—?" Hinata breathes.

"You might need your gun for this."

" _What—_ "

"This could go one of many ways..." Suga croaks out with a nervous gulp. His eyes glower over at the nearing man. "But I have a pretty good guess."

"Suga-san—"

The sentence doesn't go finished when Suga draws out his pistol with proficient speed. His eyes narrow, and he aims straight down at the man's kneecap before firing without a hitch.

_Clack!_

Hinata nearly screams in surprise, but someone else does the job for him.

The man falls to one knee, anguish scathing through his chapped lips that are now visible at the distance he is from the pair. Blood gushes out his leg, mixing with the black ash below. Hinata is beyond guffawed by the action, but no sputtering query is spat out when he watches the man untuck a gun from behind his jacket.

Concurrently, the man's hand that was so deathly gripped to his side with an 'injury' is removed, and Hinata sees that there was no wound there to begin with.

"Go!" Suga's bursting command splits through Hinata's spinning thoughts. He ducks at the incoming bullet before shoving Hinata in the other direction to start retreating into the ash-burnt town.

Panic deluges into Hinata's chest like a whirlpool. It spins and spins down the gutter of his spine as he and Suga run across the asphalt road, eventually getting onto the blackened street surrounded by the charred buildings. The ricochet of gunfire echoes against cars, spitting sparks every time it collides with the dented metal.

Hinata dares a cursory look behind him where the gut-sinking sight of not one, but many men begin unveiling themselves from inside the building and other automobiles. A whole gang, some armed with guns and some armed with blunt weapons such as planks and pipes. A shiver makes its way through Hinata's veins with dreadful heat, knowing that the men had been watching them like hawks when they passed through that part of town, waiting for the right moment to strike. Now their shouts evolve into a roaring avalanche-like clamor that chases them like an incoming wave.

"Suga-san, who are those people?" Hinata barely wheezes out in the middle of his sprint.

"Bandits, they—" Suga doesn't meet Hinata's wild gaze as he practically yanks the rifle off his shoulder to turn back at the men, muzzle aimed and ready with steps slowing, "—I'll explain later, no time."

Suga fires one bursting shot at a man that consequently falls dead in his tracks just as he crosses onto the street. A gasp catches into the webs of Suga's chest when he sees a numerous cluster of bandits crossing the road to chase them, swinging either a pistol or a blunt weapon in their hands.

Just as Suga had thought, they're a big group with little supply. They're simply running on desperation in hopes to be rewarded by the resources that he and Hinata may possess. It's obvious that Suga alone is far more equipped than they are as a whole, but with sheer number alone, Suga knows he and Hinata are going to face a losing battle, and attempting to shoot _all_ of them dead will only prove futile.

So Suga spins back ahead, rifle tucked away and running off because it's all he and Hinata can do.

They follow the road that is layered with crisp debris. Winding around every overturned car and heap of trash beneath them slows their movements by a fraction, but the sight of unburnt, still-standing buildings begin remedying their situation. Ash no longer dusts the concrete when they hop off the last sinking pile of rubble.

Looking up, the sky is dimming into a slow, humdrum sunset that is drained of all hues except a dusky blue. The grey clouds have parted slightly, and the weather is clear with no fog wading in the air.

Perfect, clear weather. And if nature keeps at it, the plan devised in Suga's head _should_ work. Well, it's less of a plan and more of a warning of some sort. Though in all articulate honesty, Suga isn't sure what exactly will come of it.

The road splits off in two opposite directions, while right between the split sits a gas station. Suga recognizes it by its strip of navy blue font that stands out from the rest of the drained town.

_24/7 GAS._

Seeing this lets Suga know of where to turn next, recalling the preset plan that he and Daichi had laid out long ago in the case of danger while one is scavenging. Albeit, they've never had to use it.

But right now, that'll probably change.

"Over there! Get them!" Wrathful voices vibrate from behind them, echoes bouncing every which way. The bandits are far closer than Suga had predicted.

To the right is where Suga tugs Hinata to keep running. Their heels dig and crunch on scraps of litter when they take off down the curved path of the right.

"You alright? Can you keep running?" Suga pants out through airy gasps when he checks in on the redhead beside him.

"Yeah," Hinata replies tersely, saying no more. His stride is still full of energy when he runs, and it prompts Suga to wonder if _he_ should be the one worried about having to keep up.

A familiar growth of vines covers an entire wall of a building a few meters away. It's completely draped from roof to sidewalk in a swampy green cape of vegetation. Water drips insipidly down each leaf when Suga approaches it to find the door hidden somewhere behind the mask of green. His hand pats across every wiry stem, groping desperately for a doorknob or window at the very least.

"Shit, shit, shit..." Suga staggers around as he makes his way down the wall, his hands only touching damp, cold brick.

The disembodied echos of the bandits' shouts are starting to take form into thunderous voices. Suga knows when he hears bullets starting to pelt onto the sidewalk beside Hinata.

"Suga-san!" Hinata cries out fearfully when he jumps off to the side behind Suga. His eyes snap over at the ashen-blonde before snapping back at the approaching group.

"I—" Suga's voice breaks under itself into a panic when his hand slips past a cold metallic surface that immediately sends chills into his fingertips. The doorknob.

His hand then fully envelops the knob and twists it to slam the door open with a discordant creak.

"Get in—!" Suga concurrently grabs Hinata by his backpack and practically swings the boy into the room where nothing but darkness sits. Hinata tumbles to the floor at the sheer force, his knees throbbing against the marble floor.

"Get up and give me a hand with this!" Suga demands unapologetically under the sparse time they are running on.

The door is slammed closed, and beside the doorway is a wide, hefty wardrobe that sits solidly in place. Just by looking at it, Hinata can tell how thick the wood is. Suga has his back against one side of the wardrobe in an effort to push it against the door to act as a barricade.

"Hinata!" Suga shouts impatiently upon hearing footsteps outside.

"Got it!" Hinata staggers up on his feet to tend to the other side of the wardrobe.

Without an exchange or countdown, Suga immediately starts pushing with all his weight the moment he sees Hinata grasp at the edges in an effort to pull. The legs of the wardrobe make an ear-bleeding screech against the old marble, along with the rocks that dig and drag against the ground. It makes a chalky trail of grey where the rocks are being pressed.

The screeching on the floor stops, and Hinata finds himself feeling the wardrobe start to burden on top of him.

"It's tipping— watch out—!" Suga warns quickly enough for Hinata to back away from the door, where the wardrobe heavily crashes to the floor on its side.

The ceiling trembles at the impact, but the door is successfully barricaded just in time when thuds start bombarding the other side. Frustrated shouts are muffled through the thick wood, and the bandits start cursing up a storm as their fists relentlessly rap at the wall.

In accordance with the wooden tables and booths lining the large room, and the long curving bar in the far corner, they're inside a restaurant. Glass chandeliers lay in shatters on the floor, each shard scattered across the marble like crystalline snow. The windows leading outside are each barricaded by an arcade machine, seemingly deliberate judging by all the chairs that are also pressed against it.

"They're gonna find a way in," Suga huffs out as his voice is drowning under the floor-shaking thuds at the door. He turns to Hinata to lay a brief hand on his shoulder and points down at the large wooden plank by the bar. "Lift that, that's the southwest tunnel. Get inside, and I'll join you soon."

"Soon??" Hinata whimpers as he grabs at Suga's jacket before he turns away.

A comforting smile draws on Suga's lips. "I won't be long, just get under there." He tugs away from Hinata's grasp, leaving hot panic to rise like smoke out of Hinata's ears.

Hinata does not do as he is told and instead follows Suga, to which the latter surprisingly does not object due to the crunch in time.

"Who are those guys?" Hinata asks as he watches Suga hurry over to a fireplace that is across the bar and in a lounging area. A circle of couches surrounds the fireplace, the cushions bursting at the seams with cotton filling. "And how did you know—?"

"Bandits. They're a loose group of survivors— they use a cry of distress as a way to lure people in and then strip them of their supplies—" Suga jerks his backpack off his shoulders to shuffle through the contents, "—I knew because Daichi and I used to be part of a group like that."

"You and Daichi-san..." Hinata mumbles, realizing just how much he is completely unaware of what Suga is really capable of _behind_ those smiles and generosity.

Suga withdraws two cactus-green beer bottles from the depths of his backpack. He yanks out the thin rags that hang out the mouths like a tail, and he proceeds to pour the alcohol onto the scraps of dusty wood piled in the fireplace.

Hinata watches confusedly when Suga makes sure he has poured out every last drop before tossing the empty bottles off to the side. It shatters against the wall aggressively, making Hinata flinch.

_Clack!_

A bullet punches through the thick door and lands on the wall above Suga's lowered head. It sends pieces of wood-chipped dust to fly across the room at the impact. Hinata squeaks and instinctively ducks when more bullets start boring holes through the door.

"Suga-san!" Hinata impatiently calls as he hears bodies start to slam against the other side.

"That group must not be doing so well if they're _this_ desperate," Suga mutters embitteringly as he takes out a lighter from his pocket with steadily trembling hands. "The seasons are changing, and they get more violent. Persistent too, which is the worst part."

A small flame sprouts from the mouth of the lighter. Suga quickly holds it to the part of the wood that is sodden with alcohol, and suddenly a bright blaze bursts in front of him as he quickly stumbles away from the ferocious flames.

The hearth of fire fueled by the drenches of alcohol dance fiercely in the fireplace. It starts rapidly growing into a roar as some sparks spout onto the marble floor dangerously. It's almost mesmerizing to watch with even Hinata frozen in place from rapt curiosity.

Smoke steadily starts to build up, finding its way up the chimney that leads straight into the sky. Hopefully, it'll last long enough to be seen. And hopefully, it's still light enough outside for Daichi to see from their hideout. It'll let him know that Suga and Hinata have made their way into the southwest tunnel.

And that they came across trouble.

"What did I say about getting inside the tunnel?" Suga finally berates but with a light-hearted smile, turning to Hinata before urging him towards the wooden plank by the bar.

"Well I wasn't going to go in by myself," Hinata retorts when Suga lifts the heavy plank that unveils the deep dark below. It's pitch black when Hinata stares down, not even being able to discern the drop. "Annnnnd it's really dark..." He whimpers in a sulky tone.

The door starts to make cracking noises of impact and has Suga nervously glancing at it. The hinges of the door are starting to rattle unstably, and he knows it will give in soon enough.

Having no time for doubt, Suga gives a rough shove at Hinata's back. The latter yelps in surprise, falling straight into the dark tunnel. "And in we go!" Suga hollers down at the abyss.

He hears the door finally break, its hinges clattering to the marble floor when the bandits start crying out in victory. Right in the midst of their brief celebration, Suga finally slinks himself into the tunnel right after Hinata.

The wooden plank above him slams closed as it fully encapsulates the space in near-silence. And all Suga's met with is the dark and the splash of water beneath his feet.

\--

From the darkness, Daichi lifts the plank above his head with a flat palm. Fresh wind gushes into the tunnel through the cautious opening, sharp and cold. Daichi nearly slips off the ladder from how fast and chilly the air fans on his face, and with an already bad leg, losing his footing is already a susceptible outcome.

"Peek-a-boo? You gonna come outta there or what?" Amusement jingles in the husky voice that Daichi hears outside the tunnel, but it doesn't alarm him. He simply lifts the plank higher to take an image of Kuroo sitting in a chair beside the table. "Want me to play along?"

The soldier gives a cavalier wave at Daichi upon meeting his brown eyes. A cigarette sits at the mouth of his smirk where a grey haze funnels out the end of an orange-lighted tip. The smell is flat and stale, and it tastes of nothing but ash.

Daichi leaves Kuroo's banter unreturned when he silently hauls himself out of the north tunnel with more struggle than usual. The wound on his leg has healed some but still remains stiff at certain angles of movement.

Kuroo notices this, his dark-circled eyes narrowing curiously at Daichi. But before he can remark anything in regards to it, Daichi snarks first.

"Sheesh." Daichi's face curls up gravely at the prominent dark circles under Kuroo's sun-golden eyes. They've always been sunken in there like half-moons, but it's certain that they've grown a few shades darker in the mere span of a week.

"Ouch. You know I don't _always_ wake up looking like hot stuff." Kuroo grumbles. The light of his flippant nature is somehow muted to an exhausted rumble. The way he takes the cigarette between two fingers and hums out a long sigh of grey smoke is a blunt giveaway to how heavy his soul is behind those half-lidded and tired eyes.

" _That_ much is obvious," Daichi mumbles, this time willingly taking a seat across Kuroo at the circular table.

Kuroo is slack in his seat with one elbow propped aside on the table. He tilts his head to shoot Daichi a brow-raised stare, eyelids barely twitching awake.

"You saying I usually _am_ hot stuff?"

Daichi gives back a deadpan face, but sure, he'll take a bite at whatever Kuroo is fishing. "I hate your guts, but I'm not blind." Daichi nearly lets himself grin at such a statement because he actually finds it to be half the truth.

Kuroo is a devious man, but he is also handsome with his night-black hair and broad build. It's when he opens his mouth that has Daichi mentally recoiling from the remote consideration of the soldier being _at all_ attractive.

Kuroo chuckles, but he takes Daichi's words with a grain of salt.

"Didn't know you swing that way, Sawamura," Kuroo jests out, looking off towards the window with no degree of seriousness in his claim.

"I do," Daichi's response is earnest and quick with a non-quipping tone. Kuroo juts a look back at the brunette with initial disbelief, expecting him to say that he's kidding. Though the solid look Daichi wears on his face says anything _but_ that.

"No way." Kuroo nearly laughs out.

"More like _that way_ , yeah." Daichi finally lets the small grin slip on his lips, enjoying the way the look of surprise outright evaporates most of the sleep from Kuroo's unusually droning gaze.

A laugh eventually pitches down to a low rumble from Kuroo's chest, smiling as it emits. He inhales a sharp, satisfied breath from the laugh that he hasn't let out in a long while.

"Well then," Kuroo exhales before taking another puff from his cigarette. "Guess that makes the two of us."

Now Daichi is the one to have a disbelieving stare fixed onto the snide-looking Kuroo. The soldier looks coyly at Daichi, obviously forced onto his face in order to express a self-satisfying look for his ' _coming out of the closet to Sawamura-san'_ moment. He even runs a hand through his raven hair, beheaded as always, before straightening up in his seat as if to prove to Daichi that he is, in fact, _mega gay._

"If you're trying to seduce me," Daichi chuckles. "In your fucking dreams."

"As if I'd go after a fucker like you." Kuroo retorts, but with a light-hearted tone.

"Right back at you." Daichi hums. "Didn't really take you as a—"

"Dick-sucker? Yeah, to be honest, me neither." Kuroo avers nonchalantly with no regards to filter. "You do it once, and then suddenly men are hot as fuck."

"Is that _really_ how you found out?" Daichi holds a single brow up with an unconvinced look shooting over at Kuroo accusatorily.

" _No_ , of course not!" Kuroo half-cackles, throwing his head back briefly to let it out. Though Daichi internally debates whether he should believe the other. "What do you take me as?"

"That can be answered in many ways and not a single one would be nice."

"Then I think I'll choose to have my pride spared."

"Good choice."

Clearly, Kuroo is having too much fun with— whatever he finds so amusing— and it's obvious by the way he is stifling every fit of hyena laughter behind a teeth-clenched smile. Daichi watches, stiff and unmoved whilst silently chuckling to himself. The exchange between them airs a different atmosphere, a light one at that. It drives a foreign space between them since the pair had departed from each other on a bitter note just the week before.

"Yeah, women are cute, but not _cute_." Kuroo shrugs, gasping in with a slight slur that has Daichi wondering if a cigarette is all Kuroo had before the shipment. "Even if I find a woman remotely attractive, the attraction is nothing compared to the male persuasion that I happen to be weak to."

"Ditto," Daichi drones.

It's the first time the two have ever agreed on something so harmoniously, and it just so happens to be in regards to their innate attraction towards men.

"Wait a second," Kuroo suddenly mumbles with a finger nudging in the air with thought. It has Daichi instinctively fearful of what idiotic epiphany Kuroo has just obtained. "You and Sugawara. All this time— is that why— you guys have been bangin—"

"When I say don't tread on my business, it includes _that_ business too," Daichi interjects with a forewarning tone, but a deceptive smile feigns politeness on his face.

" _Alright_." Surprisingly, Kuroo relents. Mostly because his suspicion was already indirectly answered by Daichi's shutdown. The preening look on his face gives way to that satisfaction. "Anyway, gimme my package."

Daichi obediently slings off his backpack to unzip the front pocket where the three-quarter filled bottle of pills waits. He withdraws the item, haphazardly tossing them to the side towards Kuroo.

"Here, and get some fucking sleep," Daichi says as he rezips his backpack, settling it on the ground beside him.

Kuroo catches the pills with one hand in midair, while taking another hit at the tobacco pinched between the fingers of his other grip.

"I will be, now that I have this." Kuroo stuffs the bottle of diazepam away into a deep breast pocket of his uniform. "And you're one to talk. I doubt you get any sleep either." He points a finger around the vague shape of Daichi's face, but the latter knows he's speaking in reference to the dark circles that also occupy Daichi's eyes.

"Well, guess we all need someone to tell us to get some good sleep."

"But does anyone ever _actually_ get _good_ sleep?"

"Never."

"Exactly. Unless you're a goddamn baby." Kuroo pulls at his pants pocket where a box of cigarettes is withdrawn. He holds it out to Daichi, lid open and welcoming with a linear row of chalky-white sticks of smokes. "Want one?"

"I heard these can kill you if you smoke one too many," Daichi states, but still finds his fingers pulling one out of the sleek grey box.

"Good. Don't wanna stick around for too long in this filthy world." Kuroo shuts the box after Daichi takes one, returning it to the same pocket it came from. "I don't have anyone to live for anyway."

He fishes a lighter out of the same pocket, flinting it alive and prodding it towards Daichi. Daichi leans in with the cigarette between his lips and two fingers pinched around it. The flame touches the tip with a share of orange flickering onto the bud as if it's blooming. Then Daichi leans slack against his seat.

He draws in a long, awaited breath that burns and scorches down his throat before gathering heatedly around his heart. It tingles about the ribbed area of his lungs as if it's a tantalizing beehive buzzing around the tight walls of his chest. His breath feels hot and tickly, and he almost coughs (but how dumb would that be?). It takes a few seconds for Daichi to finally enjoy the stings that crawl up the tunnel of his throat.

"Also, Kuroo." A cloud of grey fumes out Daichi's lips the moment he parts them to speak. "I have a favor to ask."

" _There_ it is." Kuroo points a knowing finger at the other without giving him an unsurprised look. "I was wondering why you haven't left yet. You're usually in a hurry to get out of my face."

"Hah, so you _do_ notice. I thought it'd encourage you to shut your mouth sooner," Daichi hums monotonously through the warm, grey haze settling in the space around them. Kuroo merely chortles with not a single ounce of offense showing in his reaction.

"And just so you know," Kuroo starts, his eyes sincere and voice low. He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his spine curled over. "This'll be the last favor I'll take from you."

"I know, and I _get_ that—" Daichi says almost irritably, having heard Kuroo say the same every time Daichi imposes a favor on him.

"No, I mean it," Kuroo interjects sharply, but there is no hostility wreathing his tone. He fiddles with the cigarette in his hand before eventually dropping it to the floor and crushing it out beneath the sole of his boot. "I'm being restationed."

"Restationed?" Daichi merely echoes. He doesn't express shock or protest on the matter, because if anything, Daichi somehow knew this was going to happen sooner or later. "Where?"

"Somewhere west," Kuroo replies with deliberate vagueness. He looks off to the floor, eyes hesitant to meet Daichi's as if he was expecting something to rise out of the latter, like gasoline to a fire. Except he only sits in silence when Daichi remains mute. "To be honest, I thought you'd have more of a reaction, judging that I'm a pretty _useful_ client," Kuroo admits after a few straining seconds of listening to the wind outside.

Daichi snorts, his head rolling to crack the tension in his neck. "Normally, I _would_ have a reaction. But, I'm not planning on sticking around Tokyo either."

Now _that_ reigns in Kuroo's cat-like curiosity with a golden stare whipping up at Daichi. This entire time, he seemed too tired to keep up with his own overbearing nature, but Daichi can now see it glowing in the globes of Kuroo's eyes.

"Is that what the favor is for?" Kuroo asks.

Daichi simply nods with a straight-lipped look as his thumb taps at the cig between his knuckles. Kuroo straightens up again, his back making a rally of cracks, and forces himself to ease into his chair.

"Alright, I'll bite." Kuroo lets in.

"I need something to get me out of Tokyo, fast."

"Like what, a car?" Kuroo huffs crudely in hopes that Daichi is completely joking.

"Ideally, yeah." Daichi, much to Kuroo's dismay, affirms. He watches Kuroo's face crumble and stiffen displeasingly. "Now look, I know this is a hefty favor to ask, but at least it'll be the last one you'll ever have to give me."

Kuroo's hand balls into a fist, working itself into a clench as the color in his knuckles shifts from white and back. His wrist sits at the edge of the table with a stiff arm, and golden eyes liquefy at the ground with thought.

"Where are you headed?" Kuroo asks, his voice unnaturally small but still deep.

Daichi is finding it difficult to read Kuroo's taut expression. Usually, he would have tossed a few jeering remarks Daichi's way by now. It just goes to show how haunted Kuroo's nights of sleep have been; the man can't even articulate a witty quip.

"Shizuoka. I'll be paying... a visit to some clients."

"Clients? Jesus, you have clients three hours away?" Kuroo delivers a characteristic sneer that feels more familiar when Daichi hears it. At least he knows Kuroo is still _partly_ alive somewhere inside himself.

"This better not be another segway to talk about my business—" Daichi is about to grunt.

" _I get it_." Kuroo shoots out bitterly before Daichi can continue with the admonishing threat.

Daichi scowls, and now their usual glare-off has returned. Not in the mood to smoke anymore, Daichi stomps out the cigarette below his foot with a little more aggressive fervor than he had initially intended.

"I can get you bullets, I can get you guns." Kuroo starts out with a low, sterling sharp tone. "But I can't smuggle you a whole damn car, Sawamura."

Daichi holds a locked jaw as his shoulders tense. "Okay." He forces a breathy response. Anger in the back of his throat simmers into reason, because yeah, Daichi _was_ being pretty ambitious with the demand of a car, and he will silently admit that.

"But..." Kuroo murmurs, still and suspenseful. His eyes dilate carefully as if he's mentally considering whether or not to offer what he has worked in his head.

"But?" Daichi cranes his neck expectantly.

Kuroo sighs as he snaps out of his daze at the ground. He speaks, his voice now fuller with certainty.

"I can set you up with some comrades of mine. They're typically stationed in the sector that is south of Tokyo, and they'll drive you down to Yokohama."

" _Yokohama_?"

"It's the best I can give you." Kuroo shrugs, but no half-assed attitude is bored into his words or face. "They're soldiers too. They can't take you on a free road trip to Shizuoka, but they _can_ drive you out of military territory so it becomes the least of your concern. Yokohama is where it stops since it's just a bombed, infected haven there. But it _will_ lessen your on-foot trip."

Hell, the offer is a lot less than Daichi had initially hoped, but it's _something_. Knowing this, he doesn't protest.

"These comrades..." Daichi strays on one last detail he has to make sure of. "Are they to be trusted?"

Kuroo tilts his head at the query as he cognizes an answer.

"They don't know about my smuggling work, but they're just as shit-faced _done_ with the government as I am," Kuroo assures. "If it's of any comfort, they're the two that were with me when we found you and Sugawara outside the QZ. And they seemed to trust my judgment when I insisted on letting you guys go, right?"

Daichi has his chin hooked atop his thumb as his index grazes across the tip of his nose back and forth with weighted thought. Kuroo watches with his teeth worrying his bottom lip in anticipation. Because that plan is all Kuroo can offer Daichi, and if he's not satisfied, he'll have nothing else to spare him.

Eventually, Daichi does a terse nod of approval. "Okay, I'll accept that."

Relief washes into Kuroo's curling smirk subtly. "Well, well, is Sawamura Daichi finally pleased?"

A mere grunt is all Daichi makes before rolling his eyes admonishingly.

"Er, though there's a catch." Kuroo strains out with an awkward ambiance trenching his voice. "If you wanna go through with this plan, it'll have to go down tomorrow."

Daichi's mind staggers as he slightly rocks back with narrowed eyes. " _Why?"_ A low nerving tone carries the single word disturbingly in Daichi's throat.

"Those comrades are also being restationed with me out west." Kuroo avers. "And we're due to leave Tokyo on Monday."

"How coinci-fucking-dental." Daichi caustically remarks at the sheer window of chance.

"I don't have a Plan B for you, so it's either you take it or not," Kuroo says. "And then you'll have to figure something else out because I'll already be out of Tokyo."

Frustration ripples through the twinged groan that Daichi carelessly emits. Having the travel start tomorrow is a completely left-field hit on his and Kageyama's account since the two aren't fully healed to any degree. But they're both still functional, and Daichi has no equivocal doubt about Kageyama not possessing a strong will to survive. The kid is a tough one, so perhaps Daichi can assume his limits to be far to reach, therefore he won't be holding back the group _too much_.

Hopefully, because Daichi knows that if he doesn't take Kuroo's plan, he'd be a downright dumbass.

"Damn it, fine. I'll still take." Daichi sighs, not realizing that he'd been holding his breath. His shoulders go slack as he gets up with a limp.

"Noice, noice..." Kuroo chuckles, getting up at the same time Daichi does. "I'll let them know as soon as I see them. You and Sugawara can meet them at the southside of quarantine at around 2 PM -ish. They'll be easy to spot, southside will be nearly vacant tomorrow."

"Actually, there'll be four of us coming to meet your guys." Daichi listlessly reveals as he gathers his backpack straps over his shoulders.

"Oh?" Kuroo twitches up a Chesire grin.

Daichi expects Kuroo to inquire, but surprisingly, he doesn't.

"Tomorrow, southside, 2 PM?" Daichi repeats out of clarification.

"Bingo." Kuroo shoots up an 'OK' sign before stretching a hand out at Daichi for a handshake. "Nice doing business with you." He slurs out coyly when his stare narrows in on the brunette from above.

"This the last time I'll be seeing your goddamn face?" Daichi asks with a return of a slanted smirk as he claps his hand against Kuroo's, holding it there with a firm hold.

"That's right. I'm assigned to the north sector, so I won't be accompanying you lot to Yokohama." Kuroo purrs with straight mischief. "Bet you wanted me to though."

Daichi forces his hand back from Kuroo's rough one. "You wish." He gently laughs.

"Well," Kuroo exhales before wiggling his brows suggestively. "Take care of Sugawara, especially since I now know you guys are probably getting _real_ spicy, eh?"

Daichi considers slapping Kuroo straight across the face in a lieu of farewell.

"It'll be a matter of time before you get tied down with someone you fancy too." Daichi shrugs, bending down slowly to lift the plank to the tunnel below.

Kuroo laughs breathily while doing a wry shake of his head. His hand does another idle run through his moppy hair before sagging his shoulders rather crestfallenly. "It'll just get me or the other killed, and I don't wish that upon my conscience if it were the latter."

"You'd be surprised, Kuroo." Daichi throws Kuroo one last look, and for once, his stare doesn't hold any coldness or spite. "Sometimes you just gotta cherish _some_ moments with someone, whether it be a lover or a friend. The world is shitty, but we're still given this life. So might as well try and make something from it."

Kuroo's eyes shutter in surprise, but his face curls into a reluctant look of agreement. "Guess that does hold some truth."

The two say the last of their goodbyes when Kuroo saunters out of the room, and Daichi swallows himself into the dark tunnel. The plank sends an echoing thud down the walls of the narrow corral leading down, but other than that, Daichi is left to tend to his own thoughts in silence.

Pity is a more precise emotion Daichi can articulate in his mind, and it's for the ass of a soldier, Kuroo Tetsurou.

 _I have no one to live for anyway._ The sentence sticks and stays stubbornly at Daichi's thoughts like a damn parasite. It was never a distant assumption that Kuroo is a lonely guy, but it also was never Daichi's intention to remedy that part of Kuroo. A fuck and a half (er, that alone is an overstatement) is all Daichi has ever given him, to which he always reaped back from Kuroo.

Calling Kuroo and Daichi _friends_ is beyond far fetched.

Daichi doesn't even know if anyone ever _could_ be friends with a jackass like Kuroo, but he has no right to impose judgment when Daichi himself would thoughtlessly return the same treatment.

But jackass or not, Daichi still finds himself wishing that son of a bitch the best.

\--

The world feels stock-still without a single hindrance rocking it into tumult.

Quiet, warm, dull. How ethereal it would be to be able to believe that life is, daresay, _dull_. Saying that life is dull would be a privilege when all the world coexists with the peace-hindering infected.

A heart in fearful overdrive is not dull. Dodging bullets is not dull. Hands clad in bloodstain is not dull. And the infection, with the utmost effect, is certainly _not dull_.

Kageyama twitches awake, fresh with panic from the nightmare he had just pulled himself from. Sweat insipidly rolls from his temple, dampening his raven locks, and down the curve of his cheekbone in a scorching trip. Though his fingertips are cold as winter ice, trembling when they reach up to swipe at his perspiring forehead.

A few shivering breaths moving in and out of his chest brings Kageyama back down from his unsteady high of panic, and for once, he feels the world dull around him.

He's laying on the couch by the metal gate of the second-floor parlor, his clothes sticking grossly to his back with sweat when he shifts. The sun is starting to draw slowly into the horizon, but it's still light out. The walls are grey and dusk-blue with the evening, harboring nothing but silence.

And it feels dull.

Kageyama lays an arm over his face, grumbling a low _'shit'_ beneath his weak breath. He can only listen to the sound of his own breathing when vague flashes of his frequenting nightmare play out in front of his closed eyes.

The colors he remembers are mostly red and the smell is vividly metallic, exaggerated almost. Clickers and their trill of _kekeke_ noises are also a common occurrence in his nightmares, and he knows that's a blunt sign of him having dreamt about the moment he got infected. His mind brushes over the other gruesome details he'd rather forget, some recent, some old.

But it always ends the same way: his grandfather speaking to him, but never knowing _what_ he is saying.

Reality makes a slow journey through Kageyama, and he removes his arm from his eyes to dart his gaze around the empty room. He knows Hinata went off with Suga on a scavenge, but that was around noon-ish. He _could_ look outside to try and approximate the time now, but the stitching at his side doesn't quite allow that. All he can infer is that it has been too long since they've left.

Shifting his legs off the couch, Kageyama sits up with feet planted on the ground and hand smoothing his shirt over the stitched wound. Movements have gotten smoother, and he doesn't find walking or getting around to be of too much difficulty. But one wrong twist and it suddenly hurts like a bitch.

He's about to inquire to himself where Daichi is, but the creak of the vestibule door opening from upstairs halts the curiosity from fully processing.

"North door." Daichi's voice is clearly distinguishable from where Kageyama sits silently.

The heavy-booted footsteps find its way down the stairs, and now, Daichi stands in clear view. Short-cropped brown hair in a muss over his head, broad shoulders, and chiseled jaw. Kageyama can't tell if it's displeasure or surprise that dresses Daichi's face when he spots the younger male at the couch, readily looking at him with sharp blue eyes that border onto an accusatory leer.

"North door?" Kageyama inquires with a subtle, beguiling grin pulling the end of his lip up.

Daichi shifts, even grimaces, but what for? Kageyama wonders.

"It's a sort of code Suga and I use to let each other know we're back," Daichi replies, his arms folding across his chest. "We have one for both the entries. That way we know that if we hear someone enter and they don't shout the code, it's an intruder."

Daichi remains at the foot of the stairs stubbornly, not wanting to be in any sort of comfortable distance within Kageyama. The latter is quick on picking up the behavior but doesn't particularly mind when he shares the same sentiment.

"Paranoid, much?" Kageyama chuckles.

"You're either prepared, or you die. Rather be paranoid than be caught like a dumbass." Daichi grumbles coldly as he darts his glare off to the side. "Not everyone had the grace of just waking up all safe and sound for most of their life."

A spot under Kageyama's eye twitches when he can feel the remark being directed his way. "Did you alwayslive like _this?"_

"I lived in government quarantine up until I was sixteen. And believe me when I say that _no one_ is safe and sound there." Daichi grits out gravelly. "People get taken at night under suspicion of being a Firefly. Had an old neighbor when I lived there as a little kid, and she got taken and executed just like that."

Shock flickers briefly on Kageyama's face, and Daichi smirks at the expression. It's something he shouldn't be proud of saying when things like that had caused him many sleepless nights as a child.

"Is it just you here?" Daichi asks, finally taking a step forward to crane his neck towards the hall with searching eyes. "Are they not back yet?"

"No. I just woke up myself," Kageyama replies. "Been napping for a while, and I was equally surprised to find them not back yet."

"That's weird..." Daichi mumbles. "Suga is usually always back by dusk."

Kageyama watches Daichi go from one foot to another, slightly disconcerted by the fact that his partner hasn't returned. He's basically watching the brunette internally worry under the great insistence of not voicing it to Kageyama, but his demeanor alone is an open book to what's spinning in his head.

"Are you and Suga-san a thing?" Kageyama mindlessly asks with deadpan.

The question completely derails whatever was at Daichi's thoughts, and he stops tapping his foot against the floor to meet Kageyama's curious gaze with a snap of his head.

"A thing?" Daichi parrots.

"Like, boyfriends?" Kageyama asks, almost embarrassed to be questioning such a matter.

Not much thought is put into it when Daichi shrugs, and a kind smile splits on his lips at the thought of his answer. It's a smile that Kageyama only sees when he's looking at Suga.

"Boyfriends? We never really said to each other that we're _boyfriends_." Daichi states. "We never really put a title on it, but if we were to, I guess it would go to say that we're boyfriends."

It makes sense, partly, and Kageyama nods to convey so. He isn't sure why he initially even asked the question, but he's aware of how much it has been weighing at his mind since the few times he accidentally walked in on the older males' intimate moments. Moments that go beyond any interaction he and Hinata have had as two males.

"You're not bothered by that, are you?" Daichi asks, eyelids folding with a query when he tilts his head aside to meet Kageyama's pondering look at the floor.

Kageyama shakes his head. "No. It's just new and I was curious."

A strange type of smugness forms on Daichi's face at the response. He had expected the kid to bring light to it at _some_ point. Especially when Kageyama accidentally intruded on a scene where Daichi had a hand halfway down Suga's pants, who in turn, was straddling Daichi's hips with obscene noises dripping out his lips.

Shame is what Daichi should have felt, but god, all he could do was snicker at the red-flushed cheeks shooting up the raven's wide-eyed expression that quickly cast itself to the ground.

Kageyama had mumbled a shy ' _sorry'_ at the ground before scurrying away, and Suga had hopped off his spot on the desk, sputtering in a mess of embarrassment. And Daichi knew at the time that if he had outright laughed instead, he would _not_ have gotten laid that night.

"How's your—" Daichi points at his own side in reference to Kageyama's, "—ordeal?"

"It's fine. Doesn't hurt too much anymore." Kageyama murmurs, and it's no lie that he utters. If only the others would actually believe him.

"But do rest up more, cause tomorrow will be rough."

"Tomorrow? Why?"

"Agh, I don't know... it couldn't be helped. The guy I spoke with said that....." The words fall away into a trail of silence when Daichi's settled gaze on the window becomes _fixed_ in a disturbing trance of something offputting.

The sudden stop of words and the look of concern, seemingly unprovoked, narrowing at Daichi's eyes rockets spikes of anxiety up inside Kageyama. It goes straight to his head in a slow crawl of heat that pumps his throat tight. He's about to inquire when Daichi suddenly speeds over to the window, ignoring his stiff limp, and pushes aside the blackout curtain that lazily covers half of the outside.

The suspenseful silence is driving Kageyama over the edge when he turns to watch Daichi's profile staring intently out the window at _something_.

"Jesus, don't just gape, _say something_." Kageyama seethes out impatiently with a flip of apprehension in his gut. " _What is it?"_

Kageyama hauls up and joins Daichi's side to peer out the window himself. It's vague at first, what exactly could be so discerning that it's worth taking notice of, but Kageyama can see in the distance a large, unmistakable bloom of dark-grey smoke that splits and blots the clear sky above. The sight is boldly obtrusive against the clear weather but is almost missed at how dark the sky has become. It's bordering on the shade of navy, but a tepid shade of orange illuminates the horizon of smoke over kilometers of tall buildings.

"A fire?" Kageyama quirks up a brow.

"It's not just a fire," Daichi quickly retreats from the window with purpose greatly carrying his steps. "It's Suga. The fire is coming from one of our designated distress locations."

"Distress location—" Kageyama sputters as he stumbles up onto his feet quickly. The word latches like talons into his head. "Hey, wait!"

Daichi stops his hasty stride towards the metal gate, but Kageyama can tell he won't be waiting for too long. Panic disguised as a dangerous glare is fierce on Daichi's face, showing that he's intent on leaving soon and _fast_.

"Does that mean something bad?" Kageyama asks as his tone dips into a soft panic itself. He clears his throat to cloak it into something firmer.

"Of course it does, the word _distress_ is attached there for a reason!"

"Then I'm going—"

" _No._ You have to rest up for tomorrow—"

"No, I don't fucking care, _I'm going_." Kageyama reaffirms stubbornly as he reaches to grab his backpack from beside the couch.

"Kageyama, you're not in the shape." Daichi reasons firmly.

"And _you_ are?" Kageyama spites back with a diamond-cutting glare that disconcerts even Daichi's obstinate disposition. "I'm not stupid or blind. I see you limping around like you've got two left feet. So if you're in the shape to be up and about, then I can self-justify that I am too."

Daichi's lip twitches at the clench of his teeth as his sharp jaw grows even sharper at the lock he has it under. His dark eyes are hot as coals and are not ones to briskly walk over, and it's usually enough for Daichi to assert his influence on others, especially clients.

But it's not so much a tractable task when he sends it over to Kageyama, and it becomes akin to staring at a reflection. The boy is holding up his own assertive glare, albeit, he is struggling to do so when he feels himself crumbling at the sheer intensity of Daichi's glower.

Yet he doesn't let it show.

"I know you care about Suga-san and only Suga-san. So much so that I think he'll be the only one you'll keep a special eye on in order to bring him back in one piece. But where does that leave Hinata?" Kageyama bites out with a twinge cracking like a whip in his tone.

The statement goes straight to Daichi's head, and he can't tell if he should be angry at or affirming such an accusation.

"I know if it was the flip side, I'd do the same. And you wouldn't like that, would you? Suga-san being the leftovers of what was supposed to be a rescue mission." Kageyama secures his backpack over his shoulders slowly, too busy leveling his stare at the other to make sure he doesn't implode on the raven. "Therefore I'm going. For Hinata's sake."

Daichi smothers the blaze of retorts threatening to sear out his lips, but he's sensible enough to know that Kageyama is not speaking out of his ass. Regrettably so, Daichi knows the younger boy is right to a T.

"Fine." Daichi finally grunts out bitterly, relenting. "But I am _not_ responsible for you _or_ that kid."

A long, deprived breath finally escapes Kageyama with hidden relief, but he swallows it up before he can reveal just how much he was cracking under the crushing weight of Daichi's blistering stare.

"Same goes here, but for you and Suga-san."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Flow - Shawn James](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-qYPkdwupgQ)
> 
> Sorry for the late update, my beta and I were actually on vacation together (masks, sanitization, and social distancing were kept in mind). I hopefully will have another chapter out this week! I piped down on the vocab, and I got good feedback from my beta on it :3 so I hope you guys will think the same..?
> 
> See ya'll next chapter!


	6. Positive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The sheer brightness of the light blinds Daichi, his eyes squinting in discomfort. But he can make out the muzzle of a gun from anywhere._
> 
> _Especially when it's aimed straight in his face._

The horizon is no longer discernable through the black musk covering the sky. Stars dot shiny holes in the thick and dark night above them, but little to no light is provided without the moon.

The moon is blocked by the grey hues of smoke bordering onto an ebony black. Its stale, wood-tarnished scent far overpowers the smell of cigarettes that Daichi had smelled a couple of hours earlier. It's far thicker, far stronger, and even able to rise a cough out of the brunette.

Daichi has been running for about a quarter-hour, seemingly nonstop. Kageyama trails behind with a lot less struggle than Daichi had initially anticipated, perhaps because the former is employing much effort in proving Daichi's earlier doubts wrong.

They're surrounded by parallel built buildings on either side of the road that tower over in a pitch-black shade. The road they dart down is just as dark, albeit the shine of Daichi's flashlight paving a clear path of what's ahead.

"Keep up—" Daichi starts to admonish over his shoulder, his tone anything but tender.

" _I'm keeping up._ " Kageyama scathes out indignantly, and Daichi returns the same attitude with a peeved grumble.

Daichi turns back ahead to focus more on his staggering run, his shape a silhouette from Kageyama's view. He comes to an abrupt stop at the end of town, prompting Kageyama to reach a halt behind him as well.

Kageyama is about to question at the pause, but what is illuminated under the spotlight of Daichi's flashlight quickly appeases such curiosity.

Black ash and soot gradually blanket the town past the perpendicular asphalt road. The town is split in two, and the one ahead is a haunting silhouette of burnt buildings. But there are no bright licks of fire visible or near, and the smokey stench seems too distant to be fuming from the mystifying town that stands collapsed right in front of them.

"Is that from the smoke?" Kageyama asks with a stare drilling across the asphalt filled with heat-damaged vehicles.

"No. This isn't the distress location," Daichi answers with an even voice, but the undertones of tepid panic is heard in the way he speaks. The state of the collapsed town addles Daichi's thoughts as he drags confused eyes across the sight. "This town...when did it—"

_Clack! Clack! Clack!_

The words stumble off into nothing from Daichi's lips as he ducks down at the sky-splitting sound of bullets. The bullets bounce and drill into nearby cars, shrouded in the darkness as they ricochet dangerously through the smoke-debauched air.

Quick reflexes, as sharp as ever, have Daichi moving his feet into safety before being able to fully process the danger recoiling between the metals around him. He ducks into the cover of an overturned truck nearby, praying that it's the right angle for it to be a shield from the incoming gunfire.

The bullets stop its rally when Daichi makes this move, the sounds being replaced by shouts that are equally as heart-stopping to hear.

"Damn, dude! You can't even get a few in? You're a bad fucking shot, cross-eyes!" A gruff but slightly nasally voice vibrates distinctly from inside the buildings on the other side of the truck. "We have to get _every_ wanderer, you hear that?"

Daichi subtly peeks up over the truck to spot indistinct movement from the second-floor window of the building across the street. They're stationed there like hawks, unmoving with watchful eyes that are no match against the dark cloaking their vision.

"Then _you_ try shooting through this ass-trap of smoke and dark—"

"The guy had a flashlight! You could practically see him ya dumb fuck—!"

Daichi immediately reaches to click his flashlight off at the remark, completely deluging himself in the shadows that turn him into a blind man. He exerts much effort into taming his heartbeat to a more tranquil rhythm, taking numerous deep breaths to remedy his heart that is pounding like clanging bells in his chest.

He blindly feels around beside him, his palms patting across the cold metal of the truck where wrinkles rivet across its surface, but no warmth of a person is clasped between Daichi's searching grasp.

Kageyama isn't next to him.

Panic doesn't overtake Daichi, but concern certainly does when he peers around the obscure space in hopes to outline the younger male's shape somewhere.

"Hey kid." Daichi crisply whispers without any particular aim to where he is calling out. He remains cautious of his tone when he hears the two bandits still squabbling in the building.

"I'm right here," Kageyama responds quickly from behind Daichi, and the latter whips his gaze back with narrowed eyes that peer intensely through the thick dark.

A few meters back is a mini-truck laying on its side with all four tires missing. Its silhouette looms over the smaller, distinguishable figure next to it, and Daichi recognizes it to be Kageyama already seeking safety behind the underside of the flipped mini-truck. He's crouched and pulled exceptionally small into a vigilant stance despite possessing a tall physique.

"Who the fuck are those guys?" Kageyama inquires sharply from his spot. Despite Daichi being unable to see the other's expression, he can feel the burning glare that is most likely searing dangerously from his blue eyes.

"My best guess is that they're bandits. They're probably the ones that Suga and your friend came across trouble with." Daichi withdraws his gun from beside him, the hammer clicking in shocking unison with Kageyama's gun. "They're nothing more than just a large group of survivors, but we can't get flanked by these assholes. It'll just waste our time."

"But where exactly are we going??"

"I told you, the southwest tunnel— the distress location."

"Yes, _I know_ , but where _is_ that?"

"That doesn't concern you right now, so just follow me and don't get killed."

Daichi can sense the massive eye roll from Kageyama, but he feigns ignorance to it when he turns to tread out from the protection of the truck. Kageyama's labored breathing that whisks behind Daichi lets him know of the younger male following him obediently away until the birdseye bandits' voices regress into a mere mutter from afar.

The voice of strangers travel in echoes from further down the town as Daichi slinks from car to car. The voices are perceivably distressed from their ear-tightening shouts and fervent words that are all slurred together into something indecipherable and bitter. Hearing such panic has Daichi's mind entertaining worry at the thought of _why_ they're panicking. And if a big group of bandits have now claimed the town, another worry addling him is that the tunnels beneath the pavement might be commandeered under bandit control.

Daichi attempts at easing himself when he brings awareness to the fact that the tunnels beneath _this_ town are the least popular, but what was supposed to be a comforting fact is soon capsized into a state of concern again.

Less popular tunnels are less popular for a reason: the overrun of infected in them. It's a doubtless fact that coming across a pack is highly likely, but even if one gets out of it alive, the end of the tunnel only leads one way: straight outside within _meters_ of the Tokyo quarantine.

And that's the last place Suga ever needs to be, yet he's traveling down that very tunnel. He'll fail at passing _any_ scan for the infection if the nearby military is to catch him for a quick check.

A flood of light pools in from the building across Daichi, and it nearly shines clarity on his stealthy form before he parries away into the shadow of a car beside him. Kageyama stumbles his steps back into the car behind him, dispersing from Daichi by just another few meters.

Another round of bandits are stationed in the building across, and Daichi can confidently infer from the high vantage point to which the light is coming from.

The light is searching, and multiple strobes of it cast numerous shadows of vehicles down the ashen pavement. A single spotlight beams on a white and ash-black van where Kageyama has hidden behind, and he steels himself as it shines through the windows adjacent to him.

"Hey man, we have to get our shit together! The fire is spreading down the buildings!" One clear voice rings out amongst others from the building, and the light is immediately retracted from the road. But the word _fire_ and _spread_ have both Daichi and Kageyama stationed with intrigue.

"Again? Shit, but it _just_ rained yesterday!" Another voice responds exasperatingly.

"Yeah, no crap. Now we're knee-deep in shit because of those two wanderers that fucking started the fire! Literally brought hell on that entire street!"

"Shit, but the base—"

"Exactly, so get a damn move on and salvage all you can from there! We ain't getting through the season if we don't!"

"But there are two more wanderers down there—" The light does another flash down at the cars before being stripped away in the next second.

"Forget them! The whole fucking street is on fire! So just grab your shit and let's _go_!"

The shouts recede into mere echoes, drifting further and further away into still silence. Daichi remains at his spot behind the car, thoughts scattering and regrouping when he stares into the dark with an appalled ponder on the words, _spreading fire_. He had known of the orange blaze from the view back at the hideout, but never assumed the severity of it to be wiping out a whole street.

Kageyama's footsteps clobber over beside Daichi, still hushed and wary. "Looks like the fire is worse than we thought." The calm and simple manner to which Kageyama delivers the words slices cleanly through the voice of Daichi's thoughts.

Strangely, Daichi is unsure if he is agitated or soothed by it.

"Yes, I know— I heard." Daichi dismisses, reimmersing into the swinging pendulum of his thoughts going back and forth between the newly obtained information and what his next move should be. He raises a hand to wipe it across his jaw, fingertips burning with the tingle of the vice grip he had on his gun seconds before.

"Now what?" Kageyama inquires roughly, voice no longer simple and soothing. "The fire, so what about it—?"

"It looks like Suga set a heavier fire than he intended." Daichi grimaces against the car, feeling the knobs of his spine press against the cool surface. "The way to the southwest tunnel is probably _covered_ in flames."

"Explains the whole ton of smoke."

"Yeah... it should have occurred to me earlier."

A stumbling pause wedges between them for a few lingering moments with Daichi steadily weighing his next options, until he realizes that he _has_ no other option but the one he has thought up in his head.

"It rained last night, that at least is probably slowing the fire down. So maybe—" Kageyama suggests after a moment too long of Daichi's silence.

"No, we are _not_ even going to try and walk through the flames, if that's what you're trying to get at," Daichi interjects critically with much spite weaved in his tone. "Plain stupid if you think that'll work."

"I'm supposed to be following _your_ lead, but that doesn't seem to be getting us anywhere." Kageyama seethes back bitterly. "So _forgive me_ for trying to throw you a bone."

" _Throw me a bone?_ " Daichi nearly shouts, but he catches his tone just before the words could take off. "You've got some nerve talking like that," He says in a strangled pitch that better suits their low-profile situation.

" _Plan._ What is the plan?" Kageyama completely bypasses Daichi's irked statement as if it was a mere breeze.

The latter can feel his patience bubbling over the edge at the lack of acknowledgment but finds it best to not give back an unnecessary rile of agitation. He can sense that it'll get him nowhere.

"We'll go to the south tunnel just around another block or so this way—" Daichi points down the road that leads towards the left of the ashen town, despite Kageyama not being able to see the gesture, "—it's an old, _old_ tunnel, but it's significantly shorter and connected to the southwest tunnel. They both essentially lead straight outside quarantine, one faster than the other..."

"So?"

" _So,_ the deal with this plan is to go through the south tunnel, that is connected to the tail end of the south _west_ tunnel. The latter is full of twists and turns despite it all leading to the same destination, so they'll be down there a while, which will give _us_ time to run into them. " Daichi explains. "Suga hasn't been near quarantine in a _long_ time, so he's unfamiliar with the route. Therefore that'll put him _and_ your friend at risk if they make it out on the other side, alone."

Kageyama stalls into silence for a brief moment, the word _tunnel_ spinning around his head more than once. "Old tunnel... as in there are—"

"Infected. Lots of them, and it's probably flowing with yesterday's rainwater."

"Great." Kageyama's deadpans dreadfully.

"Great: one spectacular word to describe soaked socks and rabid infected." Daichi chuckles wryly as he peels himself off the car's side. "Keep up and keep watch. We have to get there quickly and quietly."

"Lead the way..." Kageyama mumbles sourly at the thought as he follows Daichi around the masses of cars in the dark.

They no longer remain low when they stride their way around the road. Darkness alone shields them as they occasionally feel their way around, no longer putting themselves under the risk of a flashlight to give their presence away.

The humid smoke slowly lifts its burden the further Daichi and Kageyama stray away from the town, and at one point, Daichi clicks on his flashlight again. Light washes color back into Kageyama's line of vision, and it's overwhelming as he blinks away the brightness flashing sparks in his sensitive eyes.

What shines ahead is no longer any stray cars or charred buildings. Looking back, Kageyama sees the town behind him with a slight glow of orange dawdling above the tops of buildings from afar. Now they stand on a gravel road, and Kageyama doesn't recall when the solid asphalt had turned into a path of grainy rocks crunching beneath his every step.

The gravel path soon turns uphill the further they silently walk, and the gravel fades off into an expanse of grass that harbors smooth and compact cobblestone-metal buildings in quadrants, with short electrical plants standing in rows like lines of crops. Metal-wired fences wrap around the cluster of vine-embellished buildings in an attempt to guard it, but the wide-open gate with a busted padlock hanging from it thwarts any such intention.

Daichi stops at the entrance of the gate, and Kageyama follows the same suit.

_DO NOT ENTER WHEN ELECTRICALS ARE ACTIVE._

The sign is illuminated when Daichi looks up, and every flawed rust and abrasion is exposed in plain sight. The words are almost unreadable from water damage, but the fades of white are still present with a grainy appearance.

"It says—"

"Yeah, I can read." Kageyama cuts off acutely, offended. " _Thank you_ for thinking I'm an _idiot_."

The smug look curling Daichi's lips into a slanted grin tells Kageyama that he is starting to _intentionally_ step on his nerves.

Past the gate, Daichi leads them straight through the electrical plants and to the cobblestone building on the furthest corner of the fenced-off area. Its size is that of a tool shed, whereas the others loom over it like tall, metal stalks. A cellar protrudes out the side of the shed-like building, structured by rocky, uneven cement that is wet to the touch when Kageyama lays a hand on the side.

An aslant metal door encloses the cellar, and streaks of water glisten under the flashlight in long and irregular lines. Tan rust crests the edges of the doors, and thin thread-like cobwebs are stretched around the handles where droplets of rain are caught in colonies. A single look at the cellar door will let _anybody_ know how unused it is.

Daichi's hand reaches through the cobwebs that come apart under his touch, pulling the door open with an echoing screech resulting afterward. As if echoing back an answer, the noises of clickers reverberate from further down the grass field outside the fenced-in area.

_Keke— kekeke._

Daichi and Kageyama's eyes dart to each other with the silent words ' _did you hear that?'_ speaking out of their disconcerted gazes.

Kageyama feels his heart fumble in place, but he staves it off when Daichi is already stepping down the stairs to the cellar without a stop of fear. The younger male follows him in, the sounds of the wandering clickers' clicks vanquishing into silence when he slams the cellar door closed behind him.

A coarse resound shoots down the stairs from the slam, but Daichi doesn't startle. Once he gets to the bottom of the steps, he looks both ways before silently going off to the right and disappearing behind the dark corner, with only the lingering reflections of his flashlight giving way to where he is heading.

Kageyama hurries down the steps before he can be completely ingested in the dark. Turning the same corner, he easily catches up to the walking globe of light that is Daichi. He lingers behind him, because without a flashlight of his own, what shines ahead of Daichi is all Kageyama has to see.

Daichi stops in front of a row of four lockers all connected together as one. They're sleek and bent in on the left side, and one of the doors are missing, revealing grey mold to be gathered in the upper corners like a hive. Daichi places a hand on the right side of the row of lockers before turning to Kageyama, who stands in the older male's shadow.

"Behind here is a jump into the south tunnel," Daichi states, the words bouncing off the walls despite his voice being a near mumble. "And to be honest, I don't know what to expect."

"Then I guess we'll be finding out soon." Kageyama mentally braces himself of the fear, an internal action that he never lets show on his naturally scowling face.

It's an expression that Daichi believes upon seeing. "You better still prepare yourself," he says in a grave tone that opposes the amused grin on his face. "I only know the way through the tunnel, but not what exactly is going to oppose us in there."

Daichi begins his push against the locker as it drags across the ground loudly, agitating the dust below it.

"My bet's on infected," Kageyama says dryly with much satirical intent. He grips onto the other side of the locker to pull while Daichi pushes.

Daichi chuckles grimly. "Adventurous guess." He shoots back with the same manner of sarcasm.

Kageyama sees a cavernous hole be unveiled the further the lockers are shifted aside. The depths of it are seemingly infinite, even when Daichi's flashlight shines into the abyssal dark that leads straight down.

The lockers thud against the wall after the last of Daichi's push on it. The brunette looks down at the drop as his ears search for any giving sounds of what could be down there, but the sound of rushing water shreds away any other noise that could be present inside the tunnel. He takes a step back, nodding at Kageyama in preparation.

"Stick by me if you want to live," Daichi instructs, knowing that the other has no flashlight of his own.

"Don't have to tell me twice..." Kageyama mumbles darkly with his pistol withdrawn beside him. "But I think I'll do fine on my own anyway."

" _Sure_ , _kid."_ Daichi says condescendingly with an exaggerated nod. "Tell me how that goes when you're shooting around like a blind man."

Kageyama can feel a retort burning at his tongue, but he chokes the words back down when Daichi leaps into the abyss, not allowing Kageyama to say anything in his defense.

_Dirty coward._ Kageyama insults silently in his head as he follows close behind, jumping blindly into the tunnel.

Nothing but air floats beneath his feet until a large splash of water swallows Kageyama up to his knees— _ploosh!_ He stumbles briefly, about to remark how it's _dark as balls_ in the damn tunnel, but a rip-torn screech greets him right off the bat.

_KREE!— KEKEKE!_

An alarmed clicker screeches with rushed clicks trilling at an inhumane pitch. Daichi's flashlight had shuttered off for a second at the fall before flickering back on to reveal the clicker splashing its way towards the brunette.

Its face is completely consumed by the fungus that splits and blooms in two different directions like a parted wave, having marred away its eyes, nose, and upper lip into tinges of sickly yellow and pink fungi. The flakes and wrinkles of the fungi are hardened like armor, plating almost every part of their body including their hands that claw blindly ahead at Daichi.

_KREEeeEE!_

Daichi swaps out his pistol for his rifle in one proficient move, and fires.

_Clack!_

The clicker rears back, only subdued before Daichi fires another shot, this time dealing a fatal blow as the clicker drops limply into the water. That could have been the end of it, but the clicks never cease.

_Keke— kekeke!_

Kageyama turns behind him where the afterglow of Daichi's light fuzzily illuminates the clicker that's rushing towards the raven.

"Shoot its neck!" Daichi commands, quick enough for Kageyama to abide and fire the bullet straight through the unprotected spot on the clicker's neck like a bullseye.

A geyser of blood splits through the rare tender skin there, and the dead clicker sputters out a defeated sound before dropping into the shallow water below.

Kageyama backs away, pulse going into overdrive until his backpack meets with Daichi's in a bump. Both don't flinch, but there's no room to think or speak when a horde of clickers begin fighting against the rushing water in order to attempt at ripping apart the uninfected pair. Their clicks are nonstop in an attempt to assess their surroundings through echolocation, as they are blinded by the virus that has pushed its way out their eye sockets.

"Your pistol won't do against these guys—" _clack!_ "—aim for its neck—" _clack!_ "—usually there's a weak spot—" Daichi starts instructing while sending steady blasts of his rifle at the incoming clickers.

"I get it! I know!" Kageyama impatiently cuts off as he steadily starts shooting. His trampling heartbeat riles his tone up unintentionally. "I've been bitten by one."

_Clack! Clack!_

Daichi lowers his rifle before making a sound behind his clenched teeth. "There's no use, there's too many. Just run!"

The brunette takes off in the other direction, his feet kicking up globs of water at every hurried step. Kageyama curses under his breath before going to follow Daichi down the tunnel, almost tripping against the torrent in the process. He feels his eardrums on the verge of splitting at the high pitched clicks that send haunting echoes through the metallic tunnel. It surrounds him and Daichi like a hurricane, trapping them in a spiral of clicks and screeches that only bullets are able to fracture through.

Kageyama surges through the resisting water that slows his sprint into a slurred run. His jeans and shirt are partially soaked, and it stings at his stitched wound in hot tingles every time his arms swing beside him.

Right ahead is an elevated platform of stone that stretches off in diverging directions of the tunnel, with the water coursing aggressively from the left. The water dips deeper and deeper the closer they get to the platform, and tripping has become an exceptionally hard task to not do as the water threatens to sweep them off to the right.

Daichi reaches the ladder, his hand desperate as it grips deathly onto the ice-cold metal. He heaves himself up the ladder steps, his boots threatening to slip on the water-drenched ridges before finally reaching the stone platform where safety greets him.

Kageyama proceeds to execute the same effort, clutching the metal where drops of water squeeze out from under his palm. He reaches back to pocket his gun when a sudden and impactful weight tugs his arm down, almost yanking him off the ladder and into the full rush of waves. Kageyama's knuckles whiten and lock despite his wrist trembling, and he looks down at the deadweight that has attached itself to him.

_KEKEKEE!_

A clicker hangs onto his arm while being swept away from the hip down by the tumbling force of rushing water. It lets out a shrilling cry from between its bloody boneyard of teeth, its fungal-crested fingernails digging through the fabric of his overshirt like dull hooks.

Kageyama hears the back of his teeth grind against each other, too stubborn to let out any noise that speaks of pain, and he risks a kick down where his foot socks into the side of the clicker's head with desperate force. He nearly slips off the ladder, but his tensed foot at the step keeps him stalled in place.

The clicker makes a guttural noise like bubbles popping, and its claws unhook from Kageyama before falling back into a few incoming clickers. The water does the rest in sweeping the clickers away as Kageyama hauls himself up the rest of the ladder, breathing out short pants of distilling panic at the ground.

"Yikes, _that_ didn't look so hot." Daichi remarks simply, looking rather lax against the tunnel wall.

"Was a nice show, huh?" Kageyama growls out angrily at the other's nonchalance, but it doesn't waver Daichi as it would Hinata.

" _You managed_." Daichi avers. "I would have swooped in if I knew you wouldn't be able to."

"Yeah, whatever... say it however you want." Kageyama straightens up, not meeting Daichi's pensive gaze. He knows it's just a fancy way of Daichi saying, _I could have helped if I cared enough about you_ , with the overdressing flattery of mentioning how he 'knew' Kageyama was capable.

_Bullshit_. Kageyama says it so intensely in his head, he wonders if he's accidentally said it aloud. The glare at Daichi's eyes makes Kageyama think so, but the look suddenly unwinds when the approach of clickers are heard from the left path of the platform.

"Shit doesn't stop— go!" Daichi grunts before motioning towards the opposite direction of the commotion.

Kageyama hears chasing screeches behind him as he runs, but he decides it's best to not look and keeps his eyes trained on Daichi's retreating back. The drenched, sleek stone beneath his feet feels slippery, but it's short-lived when a metal door at the end of the platform awaits them in the dark.

The plaque at the door reads, _UNDERGROUND PASSAGEWAY - EMPLOYEES ONLY._

Daichi skids to a stop at the door, his hand yanking at the handle before pushing it, both being of no use as it refuses to budge against the doorframe. Adrenaline has Daichi thinking fast, and he backs away from the door with his briefly withdrawn pistol steadily aimed.

_Clack!_

The handle flies off the door as orange sparks of the bullet's collision follow it down. The slow glide of the door opening on its own is blitzed by the pair's forceful shove through, revealing a long hallway that allows the rally of clicks from the following clickers to fill the hollow corridor.

"The shelf—!" Daichi's shouts, concurrently passing by a metal shelf that is stripped bare of supplies.

The command is processed as easily as breathing, and Kageyama reaches out to the shelf as he passes by, jerking it off the wall to tumble it to the ground behind him in a clatter. The ruckus of noise throws the clickers off, some even slowing to a stop while others simply hop over the obstacle with a drive of persistence, clicking till no other noise is coherent in the air.

The hallway veers to the left, and Daichi makes a beeline for a door that is marked with faded yellow caution tape. He slams the door open with a kick and throws it closed after Kageyama gets in, thuds pounding on the other side with not much hold being promised at the door.

The all-around grey room is stripped empty with metal radiator-looking boxes attached to the opposite wall, and Daichi starts to step atop it towards the manmade hole that gapes above. He easily slips himself through to the top, his boots only visible when Kageyama begins hoisting himself up with all the sore muscle he can feel tensing through his biceps and to his shoulders.

The door giving in is almost paralytic to hear, the sound of clickers starting to storm in from behind like a cataclysmic burst.

Despite fear and pain tottering in his body, Kageyama emerges to the top, his elbows buckling the moment his knee hauls him up onto the safe concrete. He stumbles forward on his side, his cheek meeting with still and shallow water as his old wound throbs with a clutch of pain. The skin at every stitch burns with an agitated sting that has Kageyama steeling himself against the ground.

_Clack! Clack! Clack!_

Triple gunfire shocks Kageyama still when cursory blinks of light flash out the face of Daichi's rifle that's aimed down into the room. Moments pass and silence finally buzzes below them where the clickers once were, and Daichi turns his gaze straight down at Kageyama, his eyes narrowing with a half-and-half mixture of concern and a glare. His flashlight shines piercingly down in Kageyama's face, making his eyes bluer than ever.

"You alright?" Daichi asks with a surprising drop of genuine concern.

"I'll live." Kageyama grits out as he sits up from the ground with half-wet hair. The water dripping down his cheek is stark cold against his anxiety-hot skin. "It's still just a bit sore. I'm not used to running with all _this_ pulling at my side." He points down at himself in reference to the stitches.

"You'll get them removed soon, dependent on how you're doing," Daichi informs. "I don't know, Suga's usually the judge of that, so I could be wrong about it being _soon_."

Kageyama utters no response as he stares catatonically at his soaked shoes. His eyes burn under the bright flashlight, and all he hears is the stream of water flowing calmly down the curved concrete. The tranquility of such stillness is almost hypnotizing.

"You need a quick rest?" Daichi asks.

"I'm fine." Kageyama shakes himself away from the drift of exhaustion threatening to lull him to sleep. He staggers up to his feet, the water soaking his clothes now feeling humid against his skin. "How much longer?"

"Still a bit longer— that way." Daichi points down the left of the tunnel. "That way leads straight under Tokyo, and then another right, and—"

"Alright, alright, I get it." Kageyama waves off, voice bleary. "Just... lead the way."

"You realize we have to hurry, right?" Daichi raises an inquiring brow at Kageyama's rather tired form.

"Who says I can't hurry?" Kageyama bites out. "I can still run."

As much as Daichi highly doubts that statement, he doesn't employ any effort in speaking his thoughts aloud to the boy.

"Okay." Daichi starts preparing to take off on a jog, looking over his shoulder. "Stick by if—"

"—If I wanna live, _I know_ ," Kageyama grumbles, following Daichi down the tunnel with a determined run. "I should take a shot for every time you say something like that."

"I'm more concerned as to why you would be taking a shot in the first place."

"Why?"

"You're a kid."

"I'm almost seventeen."

" _That's still a kid."_

"I've had booze, and I can say I'm not a lightweight." Kageyama chortles grimly with a lopsided grin pulling at his lips slyly.

" _Uh-huh_ , you have anyone to attest to that?" Daichi challenges, shooting a guileful look at the raven.

"Hinata. Though _he_ truly is a lightweight, so anything more than a few drops of the stuff is what he'll consider a heavyweight." Kageyama remarks, recognizing his defeat. "So I guess I don't."

"Figures, the kid _is_ small."

"He's small _and_ an outright dumbass with absolutely no skill in shooting a gun," Kageyama says. "But he's fast."

" _Yeah,_ clearly." It's ironic how Daichi stumbles on his bad leg just as he says that, and Kageyama graciously keeps his amusement to himself upon witnessing Daichi trying to cover up his untimely limp.

Twenty, long minutes pass by the time they turn a corner, Daichi's flashlight pinpointing onto a tall, lonesome ladder attached to the rust-colored wall. They approach it, Daichi already getting hands on the railings.

"The other side of this should be the southwest tunnel," Daichi notes breathlessly, his own sweat trickling a trail down his temple as he starts ascending the steps.

Kageyama can hear his pounding heartbeat in his chest, a sound that feels alien without the noises of infected drowning it away.

"About fucking time..." Kageyama growls amongst himself, climbing a few steps behind Daichi.

The top of the ladder curves into a cylinder-shaped tunnel where Daichi has already disappeared into. Kageyama crawls in after him, discovering that the space is only tall enough for him to crouch in, and he hears the guttural-like sound of flowing water from the opposite end, waiting to greet him.

The tunnel itself is dry, and he sees Daichi already hopping down the other side with the resounding splash of water signifying his safe landing. Kageyama stumbles his way to the end of the god-awfully small and uncomfortable tunnel before hopping down with his own escape.

_Ploosh!_ His feet plash droplets onto his cheeks, but the depth of the water is mild, being only ankle-deep.

Daichi is motionless where he is, his eyes narrowing down to the right of the cavernous tunnel. This prompts the raven to do the same, but he hears something far before his eyes can even take in what he sees.

_Clack! Clack!_

Gunshots, but not from Daichi. They're from far, far down the tunnel.

_Keke—Kekeke—!!_

And clickers, every echo coalescing with the sound of feet sloshing through water.

They peer at the globe of light that is approaching from the mass of darkness far away. It flickers from time to time, like a hesitant flame trying to stay alight. Screeches and gunfire pop around the tunnel, like reverberating firecrackers. All the noises are at first disembodied until figures start unfolding in the distance, giving every sound a body of origin.

Clicker screeches are no longer an echo, taking the form of clearly distinguishable clicks. The sound of gunshots, now methodically slowed, can be felt vibrating down Kageyama's eardrums with proximity. And the two outlined shapes of people, one shorter than the other, emerge close enough for Daichi and Kageyama to recognize.

"Suga!" Daichi immediately emits a shout down the tunnel upon seeing a flash of quicksilver hair.

Quite perfect timing.

"....!" A voice, none other than Suga's, shouts something indecipherable back.

"What??" Daichi shouts in response, his voice cloaked by layers upon layers of echoes.

From the flickering flash of Suga's light that draws closer and closer to Daichi and Kageyama, the latter can see it blinking on a hue of red-orange hair.

Seeing Hinata running on par with Suga swamps the raven with a relief that only shows through his reticent grin. But the peaceful relief is a mere fleeting moment when Suga is now just a few meters away, his arm motioning ahead behind Daichi and Kageyama with desperate command.

"Go! Just go! There's a whole damn horde behind us—!" Suga's words are finally understood with clarity, and the desperate peal of fear cracks through his voice.

Their eyes fall back where Suga and Hinata are running from, and it's no damn kidding that it's a whole horde. There are _at least_ two dozens of clickers and probably more if the darkness would allow them to be seen. It's something straight out of a nightmare almost, the train of overflowing infected growing more and more numerous like an infinite chain.

A happy reunion will have to wait.

"Shit, shit, and _shit_." Daichi starts spinning on his heels, water swirling in a whirlpool at the move under his boots. "Stay on our asses, alright?" He shouts back at Suga and Hinata, who return affirming responses.

"Hinata—" Kageyama is stock-still, waiting for the redhead as the words choke in his voice.

"Bakageyama, just go!" Hinata immediately cries out demandingly. "I'm fast, remember?" A smile is heard in those words despite such perilous conditions.

That alone is enough to get Kageyama to start going on a full sprint behind Daichi, all noise incoherent at how close the clickers have gotten.

"Daichi, my flashlight is dying!" Suga calls out from somewhere behind, and the frequent flickers that shutter the beam of light on and off credits to his claim. He taps at the periscoped flashlight on his backpack, making useless attempts at slapping it awake after it completely goes dead.

Now all light that's left is from Daichi.

Dread fully fills everyone to the brim when squawking moans start ensuing from the darkness ahead, roused awake into action from all the commotion coming their way.

Runners. Every pitter-pattering step of water ahead belongs to them, all terrifyingly cloaked in the dark until they step in front of Daichi's flashlight like an entourage of fans readily willing to rip the four apart.

"Suga, help me out here—" Daichi doesn't get to finish when Suga blasts an impactful bullet at a runner that goes lurching back into the water.

"No need to _tell_ me to. What am I, an idiot?" Suga grits out, firing at another runner passing by. "Also, _what the hell_ are you doing here?"

"The smoke—" _clack!_ "—I saw it." Daichi stilts out.

"It was a _sign,_ not an SOS—"

"Well aren't you glad we're—" _clack!_ "—here?"

_Clack! Clack!_ Suga suspends his voice, contemplating during the few scarce seconds he has to think.

"Yes—" _clack!_ "—I am," Suga admits, finding it within himself to be glad. "But we made the distress sign to have a 24-hour wait period before acting on it though, remember? In case we actually—" _clack!_ "—you know, came back alive on our own?"

"Oh—" _clack!_ Daichi breathily chuckles against his rifle, even smiling. "—I forgot."

" _You forgot_ —" _clack!_ Suga chuckles back wryly with an odd sort of endearment laced in it. "—of course."

The repetitious sound of gunfire doesn't cease completely, but it stalls for a few seconds when they spot a stone ramp that surfaces from the water and into a concrete plane. They run up onto dry ground, and a tall chain-link fence with a wide-open door sits before their eyes as it leads off into a long and seemingly empty corridor.

Relief fully captures them all, seeing the open door as an equivalent to the gates of heaven.

Daichi is the first to run through, then Kageyama, and Suga waits for Hinata to make it in before he gets in himself, his hand reaching back and slamming the door closed with a rippling rattle. He juts the metal latch in place, locking it closed before stumbling away to let the horde of clickers slam up against it. Their hands claw and their teeth bite at every bit of metal that stands in their way.

The fence begins to sway inwards from the massive weight of bodies pounding relentlessly against it. Frustration is curdled into the screeches and clicks, unrelenting as all their cries overlap into a flooding volume.

Suga feels a hand tug at his arm that has him turning back, half-expecting it to be something of danger.

"Suga-san, let's go!" But it's just Hinata, insistently pulling him in the other direction where Kageyama and Daichi are waiting to take off down the corridor.

"Sorry, sorry..." Suga acquiesces, and they all retreat through the hall, leaving the riled screams of the infected behind till it eventually regresses into silence.

\--

The corridor is truly empty and void of any natural light, stretching down in one sculpted direction with seemingly no end.

"It's like we're inside a twinkie." Hinata easily fills the hollow corridor with his voice, bubbling quiet echoes against the hard walls.

Daichi and Suga's steps scuffle to a stop, taking the time to laugh softly to themselves in a beyond tired manner.

" _What?"_ Kageyama greatly emphasizes his tone, fighting back his own laughter when he whips his head back at the redhead.

"You know, the sponge cake thingies that Miwa always likes to bake?" Hinata mopes. "I'm sorry, I'm just really hungry..."

"But, why a twinkie?" Suga turns back, leaning against the wall.

"Cause—" Hinata motions his arms up around at the semicircle shape of the ceiling and wall, "—all these up here is curved, like the shape of a twinkie—"

"Just— shut up." Kageyama haphazardly raises a hand to silence Hinata.

The latter frowns at this, his arms tensing up beside him with refusal. "Excuse me, I at least got an imagination!" Hinata exclaims.

Kageyama, too tired to retort, simply grunts with dismissal. Even someone as simpleton as Hinata notices the grave exhaustion pulling Kageyama's shoulders down, so his face softens from its frown in much-needed silence.

This is also partly done because Hinata knows a tired Kageyama is a grumpy Kageyama, and a grumpy Kageyama is a _scary_ Kageyama.

"Okay..." Daichi backs himself into a wall too, head resting on the cool stone with peace. His eyes pin over at Suga inquiringly. "What happened back in town?"

Everyone had been too addled with catching their own breaths for the past fifteen minutes that no conversation had been initiated the entire time.

"Bandits," Suga responds simply. "Did the whole ' _help me'_ crap." His left hand does air quotes around the two words. "There were probably over two dozens of them, trying to catch me and Hinata."

" _Over two dozens?"_ Daichi cranes his neck towards the other male in hopes that it's an exaggeration, but Suga returns a slow and affirming nod.

"Bandit groups are getting worse. Far worse than when _we_ were a part of one." Suga sighs heavily. "But they'll just end up ripping each other apart once the winter hits. Supplies are getting low to the point that scavenges never turn up anymore."

"And so I assume they chased you guys into the southwest tunnel—"

"Yup, mhm." Suga nods again.

"You know you set the whole street on fire?" Kageyama remarks, earning the older pair's attentive gazes.

"Oopsies?" Suga shrugs up, seemingly nonchalant, but slight discomfort is permeating behind his eyes at the thought.

"It's alright." Daichi pats Suga on the arm, offering what's supposed to be comfort as he removes himself off the wall. "Those suckers deserve to die anyway."

The look on Suga's face doesn't seem to agree, but he utters nothing in refutal.

"How much ammo you've got left on that thing?" Daichi asks, motioning down at the rifle sitting in Suga's hands.

"Not a lot..." Suga replies, his eyes downcast at the firearm. "I'm at my last few rounds."

"Same here." Daichi grimaces, slinging the rifle away beside his shoulder. He withdraws his pistol instead, the hammer cocked and ready. "Hopefully we don't run into any more clickers then."

Daichi and Suga resume walking down the corridor, and Kageyama is about to follow when he feels Hinata pull excitedly at his arm. He totters a bit, shooting a blue-eyed glare at the redhead beside him with a slight, displeased growl.

"Kageyama." Hinata subdues his voice into a low, sharp whisper with a smile on his face. His eyes are bright and eager like polished stone. " _I got a gun_."

Kageyama has to hold back a guttural sound of surprise from his throat. " _Bad idea_ , who the hell let you? _"_

Hinata purses his lips childishly with defense. "Bad idea? Why?"

"You're _shit_ at aiming."

"We all gotta start somewhere!"

"No, I really mean _shit at aiming._ You're worse than the beginner level."

Hinata socks a punch into Kageyama's shoulder with a pout. "You just have high standards, Bakageyama..."

"Hey! Kiddos!" Daichi's voice hollers from further down the corridor. The younger pair avert their gazes toward the two figures that stand behind the blooming beam of light. They hadn't even realized how engulfed in darkness they had become. "Catch up or we'll leave you guys to rot in here!"

Kageyama takes his arm back from Hinata's grip, shooting him a glower. "Don't even think about shooting that thing." He warns through clenched teeth. "You're gonna accidentally kill somebody."

"Isn't that the point?" Hinata is too guileless for his own good.

"Have you ever _actually_ killed a living person? Something _human?"_

Hinata's shoulders lock up with tension, his features falling down at the ground with fiddling fingers that wrestle together at the knuckles. The heat of Kageyama's unwarranted annoyance simmers away into dust when he looks down at Hinata's deflated gait. It's a pitiful sight, even for Kageyama, and he sighs with a type of remorse that has him hating himself for it.

"Just... I'll teach you how to shoot it. Properly." Kageyama relents, his voice rough with the unwilling show of tenderness behind his tone. "Okay? Happy?"

"Hurry up!" Daichi demands.

"Alright!!" Kageyama shouts back, already starting to jog towards the brunette in order to appease his impatience. He looks back at Hinata, who suddenly has scrapped away his crestfallen expression and has replaced it with a starry-eyed look of excitement.

"It's a promise?" Hinata beams, smiling with the utmost happiness as he holds out a pinky finger as they jog.

Kageyama resists the inherent urge to reject such a child-like act, but he surprises himself by actually returning the gesture. Their pinkies twine together, holding each other in a warm lock before Kageyama pulls away quickly, embarrassed out of his wits.

"There, I did it," Kageyama grumbles, avoiding Hinata's intent stare. "Happy _now?"_

Hinata nods quickly, the gleaming smile never leaving his lips. "Very."

"You dumbass, you seriously never grow up..."

They catch up to the other pair, to which they are encountered by Daichi's threats of leaving them behind the next time they don't keep up. Kageyama is more than willing to retort until Suga calls Daichi out on being unreasonable by throwing an offhanded joke at the latter. If anyone is on their way to earning Kageyama's respect, Suga is at top of that list.

The corridor finally comes to an end. The walls and ceiling lose its rounded shape and expand out into a large room, most of which is untouched by light. The temperature drops low enough for chills to crawl up everyone's skin, and the brazen cold feels sharp on the metal ladder. So sharp, that Daichi almost recoils his hand from the railing upon wrapping his fingers around it.

"I'll get a look at the top first." Daichi leaves no room for protest when he is already making his way up the steps.

The wooden plank at the top is heavier than others he usually encounters, within good reason. Tokyo quarantine walls shouldn't be too far off from here, therefore procession must be carried with great caution.

Daichi lifts the plank just enough for his eyes to look through the gap he makes. He turns his flashlight off upon observing that it's completely dark outside. It's as if the sky has drawn blackout curtains on the moon.

Though he doesn't hear anything, nor does he see anyone, namely soldiers for that matter. The still and unperturbed dark is convincing enough, and Daichi slides the plank back for him to climb the rest of the way out. Being out of the tunnel provides a better view of his surroundings, and his earlier judgment of there being no presence of danger is proven right.

"It's clear, come on up," Daichi whispers down at the tunnel below.

The first to emerge up the ladder is Hinata, crawling out quietly like a mouse as he joins Daichi by his side. Then it's Kageyama getting up in the same manner.

"It's dark as hell." Kageyama immediately remarks to himself.

"You think you can still use your flashlight, Daichi?" Suga asks as he surfaces from the tunnel, pulling the plank back over the entrance.

"I think so," Daichi says with a mound of uncertainty. "Kuroo said the southside should be mainly empty, but I don't wanna risk it."

"Oh, and how did things go with Kuroo?" Suga asks, his voice exceptionally hushed close against Daichi's ear. He's gotten far better at whispering the past years. "Did he offer you a plan?"

_Shit_ is all Daichi hears himself say at the forefront of his thoughts. He had forgotten about the whole plan being due to happen _tomorrow_.

A strangled groan from the lowest of Daichi's throat has Suga assuming the worst.

"I'll... tell you later once we're back at the hideout." Daichi sighs quietly.

"Isn't that..." Hinata pipes quietly from behind. "...kinda far?"

Yes, it is _pretty_ far, in fact. Daichi knows this, but he also knows that if they don't get home _that night_ , it'll just mean more trouble for them later.

"Don't worry, I know my way around," Daichi assures, his eyes blinking blindly through the ungiving dark.

"You need to be able to _see_ in order to know your way around." Kageyama snarks quietly but loud enough for Daichi to recognize as the raven's attitude.

"I have my instincts," Daichi mumbles back, making his way through the scraps of debris below his feet.

Staring at the dark long enough allows better discernment to be made of their surroundings. They walk through scraps and scraps and scraps of debris, with only the skeleton of building foundations holding still within the dirtied concrete. Everything nearby quarantine, including surrounding cities, is destroyed beyond repair. Nothing is salvageable as the ghost of civilization is soaked within every piece of a broken city.

"Why is everything broken and gone?" Hinata asks as he hops down a metal ledge of what looks to be the remains of a restaurant.

"Back when the pandemic started," Suga responds as he climbs over a collapsed metal beam in his way. "The military bombed the nearby areas of designated quarantines in an effort to wipe out as much infected as possible."

"But... what about the people who lived in those areas?" Hinata asks.

"All evacuated," Daichi replies gravelly. "Just packed everyone in buses and sent to their designated quarantine zones."

"That was for the people who got a notice beforehand about the virus," Suga mutters. "Some weren't as lucky."

"And then when did the Fireflies come into play?" Kageyama asks.

"I don't know about _that_ one." Daichi shrugs. "All I know is that when time passed, people made their own way of survival, and the Fireflies are one of them. And so are colonies."

The Fireflies are more of a political approach to survival. They actively oppose the military after all, by waging constant war between them and the government. Colonies were established by people who were simply seeking to live life without war, without politics, and to reestablish life as it was before the pandemic ever happened. They're outside the bloodshed, outside the conflict within humanity's own self.

But it's not completely avoidable, evidently so for the Morioka colony that has been completely seized by the government's oppressive hands.

"You guys are pretty young—" Daichi starts.

"You say that as if you're old." Suga remarks with an unseen grin.

"He acts old."

"Kid, I swear I'll dump you down into this pile of rubble." Light-heartedness is apparent when Daichi directs the threat to Kageyama, because who else would say such a thing?

Kageyama doesn't quip, but he is heard chuckling with his own amusement.

"What I meant is," Daichi resumes his earlier sentence. "You guys are pretty young so... parents. Did you guys have a family?"

Silence. It's something Daichi didn't quite expect. Colonies are usually known for their jovial lifestyles and complete families within the safety of their walls. Though the prolonged wordlessness from the two clearly proves otherwise.

"Daichi..." Suga starts to chide softly upon getting no response.

"It's... a reasonable curiosity." Daichi reasons, but sighs upon glancing back at the two vague shapes of the younger pair. The dark doesn't allow their features to be interpreted, so Daichi can't quite read the situation as well as he usually would. "But, forget I asked. It shouldn't have been my business."

They continue without another hitch, the remains of their conversation never being revived again. It might have been perceived as awkward, but everyone is too busy trying to climb and pass through debris that they have no choice but to grow accustomed to the silence.

Though it seems they got _too_ accustomed.

Daichi approaches the entrance of a long shipping container that sits in the smack dab middle of a wall of rubble. It reeks of old, rotten rain that still drips slowly off the sides and into a small puddle on the ground.

_Drip, drip._

Daichi climbs into the shipping container in order to come out on the other side, unhindered. That was the plan until he reaches the other end, whereas he is assaulted by a bright flash of white light shining acutely in his face.

"Hands up, and get down on the ground." A male voice commands. The voice is low in a rumble, like the brewing of dangerous sea waves acting as a precursor to a loud storm.

The sheer brightness of the light blinds Daichi, his eyes squinting in discomfort. But he can make out the muzzle of a gun from _anywhere_.

Especially when it's aimed straight in his face.

This gets Daichi immediately raising his hands beside his head, despite them itching to pull out his pistol from behind.

"I said get down from there." The voice commands again.

Daichi reluctantly concedes, as much as he hates himself for it. A series of _fuck, fuck, fuck_ is going at a rapid-fire pace inside his mind, and he's directed to kneel down at the ground with his hands clasped behind his head.

The bright light is taken off his face and pans over to Suga's next, his hands already behind his neck with eyes wide in shock at the light painting his pale skin a moonlight-white.

"Hmmm... there's _four of them_." The man, now recognized as a _soldier_ from his dark-speckled uniform, grumbles dreadfully.

"It's okay, don't shoot," Suga instructs lowly at Hinata and Kageyama over his shoulder. His voice is composed and calm, but his unsteady breathing exhibits other feelings that are brewing in his body.

The soldier commands the three of them to join Daichi on the ground, and they all acquiesce onto their knees with hands glued behind their heads. Hinata is seen trembling when he kneels beside Daichi, but his lips don't dare to part with protest. Suga drops to his knees as well, his back erect but shoulders locked with desperate composure, and Kageyama slowly kneels at the end with clearly nervous glances frenzying in his blue eyes.

They're all as quiet and compliant as they can be since the muzzle of a sleek-black assault rifle pans slowly around their heads.

Daichi has never seen a flashlight so fucking bright before, so bright that all he can stare at are the soldier's boots. Attempting to stare up at the soldier's face will only result in being stabbed in the eyes by a ray of the LED light, and Daichi would prefer to keep his vision in peak condition.

"Akaashi!! We've got four stragglers!" The soldier's voice raises from its low rumble, suddenly calling out in a grating voice.

"Bokuto-san, please keep your voice down." A softer, more smooth-sounding voice replies from further away. It's almost velvety and eloquent, and the mannerism in which he speaks suits it well. "We're supposed to be off-duty, so please keep that in mind. Or else we will be needlessly suspected for other activity. Namely, Firefly affiliation."

"Ah haha.. right, right..." The supposed Bokuto's voice is almost at a giggle, so uncharacteristic to how he first approached Daichi and the others.

Another pair of boots approach Daichi's view at the ground, and suspenseful silence hangs over them like a guillotine. It's offputting, so much so that it's like hot coals are being pressed down Daichi's back from anticipation.

"Bokuto-san, correct me if I'm wrong," The smooth-voiced Akaashi deadpans out. "But these two—" Daichi feels fingers being pointed at him and Suga, "—they look like the men that Kuroo-san said we encountered and let go last year."

Daichi jerks his gaze up at the mention of Kuroo's name, no longer giving care to the light that pierces through to the backs of his eyes. Widened brown pupils find themselves staring straight at the reveal of the two soldiers' faces when Bokuto lowers the flashlight.

Familiarity screams before Daichi's eyes upon seeing the two soldiers standing over him. The flashlight casts shadows over their features, but it doesn't cease Daichi from recognizing them as the two soldiers Kuroo was with when they caught him and Suga around the QZ about a year ago.

"Akaashiiiii, how do you even remember that?" Bokuto's face crinkles with confusion as he stares down at Daichi. His two-toned hair is spiked up in two different directions, his golden eyes piercing critically down into Daichi's dark ones and trying his very best to grapple at recognition.

"Bokuto-san is not very good at remembering things." Akaashi delivers dryly, an assault rifle identical to Bokuto's sitting in his hands. His steel-blue eyes are just as dry as his tone, and his expression as a whole exhibits close to nothing at all. His short, curly black hair almost blends into the night sky if it weren't for the flashlight shining streaks of white on his hairline.

"Akaaaashi..." Bokuto suddenly sounds deflated, shoulders sagging briefly before Akaashi slaps a hand on the other's back to send him standing back up straight.

"You're holding a gun, please check your posture."

"Sorry..." Bokuto chirps.

Akaashi's gaze meets with Daichi's, then Hinata's beside him, then Suga's, and Kageyama's. But they linger on Hinata and Kageyama, drifting between them as if he's quickly cognizing them as strangers.

"These ones must be the other two that Kuroo-san said is tagging along with them," Akaashi speaks in reference to Kageyama and Hinata.

"Akaashi, they're people, you know." Bokuto chuckles, oddly admiringly. "You don't have to say ' _these ones'._ "

Akaashi's face remains indifferent at the statement as his eyes scan down the row of kneeling survivors, who don't dare to say anything in fear of being penalized for their words. "Who here is Sawamura-san?"

"Me." Daichi answers and the two soldiers both immediately look over at him. The flashlight returns back to his face, and he holds back a curse as he squints compliantly at the eye-burning sight.

"Tell us about Kuroo-san," Akaashi commands with a still tone. "So we know whether or not we've got the right people."

Daichi musters a few blank blinks at the broad command. "About him? Like what? Who he is? What he's like?"

Akaashi doesn't throw him any clarifying leads and simply stares back expectantly, and Bokuto seems to be following the same approach.

Daichi sighs at the lack of response and decides to answer in a way he thinks fits best. "Tall, built like a goddamn tree, dark hair with a bedhead that goes for days, a cocky bastard, grins like a fucking cat, annoyingly persistent, but has pretty well-tanned skin to the point you hate him for it."

Bokuto turns to Akaashi, who doesn't return a look back. "I don't know about you, Akaashi, but that sounds _exactly_ like our Kuroo."

Daichi smirks satisfactorily, but Akaashi doesn't return much comprehensible reaction.

"We can talk more details about the plans for tomorrow—" Akaashi states.

Daichi can practically _feel_ the confusion rutting into the other three's heads right about now, but they all don't voice any such query when Akaashi pulls out something from behind him that makes Daichi resist from making his features drop.

An infection scanner.

"—After we do the routine scan." Akaashi urges the scanner over towards Bokuto. "If you will, Bokuto-san."

"Of course, Akaashi! You can always rely on me!" Bokuto enthuses back as he takes the scanner from the raven soldier's hand.

Dread begins corroding at Daichi's ribs in a way that is akin to melting acid. An anticipatory flash of subdued panic has Daichi flinching when he feels Bokuto press the scanner behind the shell of his ear. The warmth of it grows hot to the point it turns scalding as if its goal is to melt his cartilage off. But the scanner pulls away the moment it reaches such temperature, leaving the spot to feel raw against the cold air.

_Beep beep._

"Clear," Bokuto announces, moving the scanner onto Hinata's ear now. The redhead twitches to keep from squirming, even biting his lip to suppress whines of pain that is searing heat onto his skin.

Suga is next down the line from Hinata, and Daichi can see him fidgeting anxiously from the corner of his eye. Suga's elbows twitch, containing a fit of panic from overflowing out his body as he knows full well that his turn is next. The moment he gets scanned, regardless of whether he has turned or not, it will _always_ read positive for the infection.

And that'll be it for him.

_Beep beep_.

"Clear," Bokuto announces again, placing the scanner next on Suga's ear. The latter squeezes his eyes shut at the heat of both anxiety and the device on his skin, staving off the urge to pull away before the scanner can show the result.

Daichi motionlessly darts his eyes between the soldiers. Akaashi is stationed in front of them, eyes glued but gun lowered with the great potential of being brought up into a deadly angle within a mere second of danger, while Bokuto stands behind Suga with the scanner pressed up to the latter's ear.

Akaashi seems quick-witted, and it worries Daichi in regards to how fast his reaction time truly is.

_Beep beep._

The scanner calibrates fast to leave Daichi one spare moment. Just one spare moment that's long enough for Bokuto's eyes to narrow down at the scanner and read the big red word, _POSITIVE_.

That's the catalyst for Daichi's next actions. He cracks out his pistol in one sweeping motion and aims straight at Bokuto's head, his finger eager on the trigger.

This is not the first time a situation like this had happened, only once before, actually. But it's one instance alone that reminds Suga of how to escape this situation like the last time. He flips out his switchblade and rears back with the full intention to drive it into Bokuto's groin.

The cursed thing about this is that Daichi and Suga's actions counteract.

Bokuto stumbles away from the deadly slice of Suga's blade, at the same time as when Daichi blows a bullet towards where Bokuto's head was supposed to be.

_Clack!_

The bullet misses and goes to waste by flying off into the sky. _  
_

"Hey! Hold on, hold on, hold on—" Bokuto immediately sputters with no violent demand in his voice. He stumbles on his own feet and falls back onto the ground where his flashlight spins away from everyone, completely engulfing their surroundings into pure darkness.

Daichi is up on his feet but finally pauses when he watches Bokuto toss his assault rifle off to the side in a manner of a peaceful forfeit.

_Why?_

A large white globe of light swallows Daichi's form whole like a spotlight. His bones stiffen, impeding him from acting when he knows that Akaashi is more than ready to crack a bullet into Daichi's skull in about .2 seconds.

"Akaashi, don't shoot!!" Bokuto cries out desperately amidst the split-second chaos, his hand stretching pleadingly in Akaashi's direction. His golden pupils are like twin citrines when they glow against a small sliver of his own flashlight.

Akaashi abides by the command, but it doesn't wane his aggression away.

"Bokuto-san, since when did you get so clumsy?!" Akaashi's voice breaks from its calm, even tone, and slightly spikes up into something a little more emotion-giving. "And your gun— you—"

"Akaashi put your gun down—"

"What was the scan?"

"Akaashi—"

" _Scan, Bokuto-san_."

Bokuto's expression is nothing of malice, but rather of twisted indecision. He glances at Daichi as if asking for approval when he reaches over at the dropped scanner that still reads _POSITIVE_ across the screen.

Daichi doesn't intend to give a response, but Bokuto takes the scanner in his hands anyway to toss it over to Akaashi's feet. It clatters and spins before settling beside the soldier, the bold red color of the text being enough of an answer to his demand.

"Did Bokuto-san forget how to read too?"

"I know it says positive!"

"And that means he's _infected_." Akaashi shifts the aim of his gun from Daichi to Suga as the light now shines on the latter's pallid face that is not unlike a deer in headlights.

"I'm not infected..." Suga states slowly and calmly with a shaky exhale, staring straight at the flashlight that turns his hazel eyes into a honey-brown. He has his hands raised beside his head again, one clutching his switchblade. "I... I'm—"

"You should listen to your buddy here and put the gun down!" Daichi interrupts, deliberately not allowing Suga to utter the word, _immune_.

Suga holds his tongue in surprise but doesn't try to complete his sentence. Kageyama and Hinata employ the effort in remaining silent and low, despite the former feeling his hands burn with the desire to cast out his own gun. The sirens in his head are blaring at him to do so, but Kageyama knows that one careless move will prompt Akaashi to blow a bullet into his head.

"Yeah, Akaashi, please put it down—" Bokuto softly persuades.

" _Why?"_ Akaashi asserts his obstinate position as the gun stays fixed at Suga's head from afar. "I need a good reason."

Bokuto shoots Daichi a look, a look the latter perceives as _I'll take care of this_.

"They're just afraid... look." Bokuto is propped up on an elbow as he motions around at the survivors. "And don't you think, that someone who's truly infected wouldn't try _this_ hard to stay alive?"

There is great veracity in that claim, a level of veracity that has Akaashi suspending his voice from protesting.

"And Kuroo, our man Kuroo..." Bokuto says. "He wouldn't set us up with these guys for no reason."

"But Kuroo-san is a very devious man," Akaashi avers coldly.

"But he's also a man of his word." Bokuto counters. "All he told us to do is drop them off at Yokohama. Then after that, we don't have to see these men again, and we'll be out of Tokyo. If one truly is infected, then we'll terminate him the moment he goes rabid."

Akaashi seems to consider it, but it's hard to tell when his face remains indifferent behind the flashlight.

Bokuto's adam's apple bobs when he gulps nervously at Akaashi's silence. "I trust Kuroo. If he says everyone is safe, then I trust that they're safe. And _clean_."

"But he's _not_ clean, Bokuto-san, and they're _not_ safe because one of them has a gun aimed straight down at your face!" Akaashi exclaims. Daichi is not sure how Akaashi's voice can sound both deadpan _and_ aggressive at the same time, but it's happening.

"Akaashi, please get out of your head for a second!" Bokuto pleads, almost whines. "I know you're taking things in as they are, observing, inferring, and all the cool words that describe you but I don't know the meaning of!"

The gun shifts, and everyone grimaces, even Bokuto.

"Think of... of _why_ I gave up my gun... of _why_ Kuroo entrusted his friends to _us_... of why _this guy_ is infected, and of.... of..." Bokuto's voice falters with derailed thought. "Agh, I don't know what I'm saying!"

"Bokuto-san..." Akaashi quietly grumbles impatiently.

"No, no, I _do_ know what I'm saying!" Bokuto quickly backpedals, hand waving up at Akaashi with a big, goofy smile that quickly disappears at his next words. "They're scared, and I don't wanna kill any more scared people before we leave Tokyo. And Kuroo trusted us to leave us with this task, and he's the reason we're able to leave this quarantine, so we owe him this huge favor, 'Kaashi... and that includes trusting him. Because... how else would he feel if we repaid him by saying we killed his friends?"

The tail end of Bokuto's words are heavily weighted with solemnity. It's heavy enough to be felt by everyone who hears it, especially Akaashi, whose silence no longer feels indifferent, but thoughtful.

The flashlight lowers from Suga's face, along with the assault rifle's muzzle that now stares down at the ground. With Akaashi's face no longer hidden behind the comfort of a firearm, it's perceivably blank, wiped of all emotional rendition that would have kept everyone unsettled if it weren't for his short and conceding nod that finally tells of his reluctant compliance.

Akaashi's dark blue eyes glare like prodding daggers at Daichi and his pistol that has yet to be forfeited. Daichi concedes to this as well, tucking his gun away behind him as a silent offering of a truce.

Everyone is still too scared to move, watching as the slight _drip-drop_ of rain begins to sprinkle on the concrete below them.

It's starting to rain.

"I hope your judgment is not wrong, Bokuto-san," Akaashi finally speaks with a slight tension locking in the knuckles that are wrapped around his rifle.

Bokuto gets up at the sound of his name, his boots scuffling across wet pebbles. "I know you won't leave any room for my errors, hehe." He avers innocently with a cheery grin before looking down at the three who are still on the ground. "It's okay to get up, Akaashi won't shoot." He assures.

They all rise from their knees with small noises of relief being elicited from all of them.

"Sorry, sorry, did we scare you?" Bokuto beams out in an oddly enthused tone.

Hinata, still a bit hesitant to speak, has a mild shake shivering down his limbs. "I've never had a gun pointed right at my face before..." He sulks.

"You can handle a horde of infected, but not a soldier?" Kageyama snarks.

All remnants of fear evaporate out of Hinata's demeanor when he tenses up to fight Kageyama. "You were scared too! Don't deny it!"

"I was scared, but at least I wasn't shaking like some human laundry machine."

"A human laundr—" Hinata sputters as Bokuto peals out a loud laugh, "—OH YEAH? WELL I'LL SHOW YOU HUMAN LAUNDRY MACHINE!"

Their voices echo directly up into the sky, prompting Suga to hush them before any more noise will give their presence away. Akaashi clears his throat amidst the group before him, and everyone doesn't dare to make another noise in order to create room for the intimidating soldier to speak. He is the epitome of silent but deadly vibes.

"The plans tomorrow," Akaashi directs his cut and dry look at Daichi. "2 PM sharp right at this same spot, please, or we will simply not go through with it."

Daichi nods in understanding, though the heavily inquiring dart of hazel eyes snapping over at him nearly rocks his composure.

"Tomorrow? _What?"_ Suga shifts so his confusion-addled expression is the only thing there is for Daichi to stare at. "Okay, this whole exchange has been _so strange_ , so what the hell did you and Kuroo discuss today?"

Bokuto and Akaashi exchange silent looks from behind Suga, as Kageyama and Hinata shrink at the sheer demand in the ashen-blonde's voice.

"I didn't have the chance to tell you— and I know that it's kinda ridiculous—" Daichi speeds up his words after Suga sighs and has his hands rubbing at his temples, "—but it's all Kuroo could give. Damn bastard is leaving Tokyo on Monday and this is the only window we'll get."

Suga's lips part agape, searching for words that are either of agreement or contempt, but neither come out. "We're just... not ready, Daichi—" Suga breathes out unassuredly.

" _I know we aren't_ , and I know this isn't the best card we've been dealt, Koushi, but something tells me we won't get something like this for a while," Daichi says, his hand patting atop his other palm persuadingly. "It's better to start now than to start in the winter. And they're driving us to Yokohama, so that'll cut our on-foot trip by a lot. So as good chances go, we'll make it to Hamamatsu before the winter hits."

Suga is still clearly displeased, his frown exhibiting such emotion as he drags his eyes across the ground then back behind him where the other four veer their gazes away, feigning the fact that they aren't listening to the pair's conversation.

But Suga isn't an idiot, and he doesn't want to convey himself as such by denying the acute truth in Daichi's words. They won't get a window like this in a while, if ever without Kuroo around anymore. And acting before winter rolls around would be the most logical option.

"Fine... I have no more objections then." Suga relents with a strained sigh before looking down at Daichi's leg. "But don't push yourself. You're still a bit injured, and keep that in mind for Kageyama too."

"The kid can handle himself well enough." Daichi drops his voice low between him and Suga so the addressed male doesn't hear.

"People who can handle themselves well will still need help, Daichi." Suga narrows his eyes. "And that includes you."

The latter turns and saunters away from Daichi before he can even respond affirmingly. Daichi will admit that the words did sting a bit, but he cannot complain against something that he knows is true.

It's a matter of getting to act on the truth that makes it so intractable to hear.

"Hey, hey, hey, how bout we drive you guys home?" Bokuto asks, much to Akaashi's dismayed glance that he casts Bokuto's way, but Bokuto doesn't seem to notice. "You need to get home fast for a good night's rest, right?"

"Not home, no thank you," Daichi politely rejects.

"Then how bout nearby home?" Bokuto prods. "Like which direction? Building?"

Daichi finds himself uncertain of revealing any proximate location of their hideout, only for it to dawn on him that they'll be leaving it behind tomorrow anyway.

"West, by the building that has the mini clock," Suga answers before Daichi can even articulate a response. "By there will be fine."

"Alright!" Bokuto looks eagerly over at Akaashi, who airs the opposite of Bokuto's enthused demeanor. "Akaashi, get the truck started!"

Akaashi wordlessly walks off, his hand rummaging through his pockets for something that is presumably a set of keys.

"You're spectacular at communicating, by the way," Kageyama says with bitter sarcasm as he approaches Daichi in following Akaashi to the truck that is hidden behind a mountain of rubble.

" _What?"_ Daichi has to take a quick second to recognize the intention behind the words.

"You had that entire time in the tunnel to at least tell _me_ of this... plan."

"I'm not obligated to be telling _you_ first of all people, kid."

Daichi glares off and walks ahead with Suga and Hinata, leaving Kageyama to linger back behind all of them. Perhaps it's the best that way when a dark depth of annoyance is simmering bitterly inside Kageyama's chest. His scowl has deepened enough to convey such frustrations.

Daichi seems to be aware of Kageyama's capabilities as a survivor, even leaving him to fend for himself sometimes. Therefore it makes no sense in his head when Daichi, in the end, always sees Kageyama as nothing more than just a kid.

Even literally calling him _kid_ instead of by his goddamn name, but it's something Kageyama finds himself having to get used to eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The Wanderer - Shawn James](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pWoFr9U_Wp4)
> 
> As you can tell, **I fucking love Shawn James' music**.  
> Also I swear on my big toe that Imma have chronic back pain by the time I turn 25. I already got insomnia so _whelp_ I guess I'll watch myself crumble. But if I get to write fan fiction while doing so, I have no damn regrets.  
> Feel free to comment, it would be appreciated :) I write every day in order to get a chapter out each week, and it'll keep me motivated cause sometimes I get writer's burnout.
> 
> Though, **there will most likely be no update this week and next week**. I'm going camping in the middle of nowhere during the week of the 12th, and I probably won't be able to piece together a chapter for this week cause my beta has her own life to live too and she's busy this week. SO! Buckle up cause a big ass plot storm is brewing ;)


	7. Unravelling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Are you scared of the infected?" Suga asks, proposing his own offhand question at the soldier._
> 
> _"What else is there to be scared of?" Akaashi counters, eyes tentative in looking over at Suga. "There's nothing worse."_
> 
> _"The infected?" Suga asks. "Or to be infected?"_

The air is crisp, cold as the first frost of an autumn morning despite it being hours past noon. Fall is quickly slipping by like a rug under everyone's feet, and a bullet train of chills course through their veins as they wait behind a sloping block of debris for the arrival of the two soldiers who have promised them all escape.

The quartet of survivors hide behind the remains of what looks to be a church, with the rusted scraps of rosaries laying either crushed or severed on the ground. The decrepit stone is bumped with ridges where rocks are lodged beneath its surface, and unleveled dirt blankets the skeleton of the foundation, soiling everyone's shoes as they inconspicuously hide behind the stone. The church is adjacent to the rendezvous point where their encounter with Bokuto and Akaashi took place, though no sign of the soldiers have availed, despite it being several minutes past 2 PM.

"Is it time yet?" Hinata whispers over Suga's shoulder, eyes boring deep with curiosity when he meets the latter's gaze.

"It should be," Suga mumbles, uncertain. One end of his lip twitches up into an unsure chuckle when he looks over at Daichi at the end of the wall of rubble, silently inquiring for answers.

"They're sure taking their sweet time." Kageyama mutters bitterly, his blue eyes lasered down at his fingertips that fiddle idly at the pebbles by his feet.

"I'm sure it's all for the right reasons," Daichi states with a patient attitude as he peeks through the half-moon gap in the stone foundation. Though it's clear that he too is disgruntled by their long wait, judging by his frequent glances towards the vacant rendezvous point.

Everyone blinks off the remains of sleep as they crouch in obscurity. Last night was a restless night for all, and it's uncertain as to whether or not anyone got a single shut-eye of sleep. Dawn had drawn into the horizon fast, and everyone was already awake then, pretending as if they were asleep all night, but nobody truly was.

While everyone was supplying themselves for the trip half-awake at the hideout, Daichi had set rules for everyone to abide by. Rules that will stand and operate even beyond their drive to Yokohama.

_Number One: "Don't let anyone know of the immunity."_

Claiming that someone is immune to a virus that has a 100% fatality rate will only elicit the natural human reaction: denial. And as many natural humanreactions go, it'll get people hellbent on trying to kill them for being crazy. Therefore it's better to pretend that Suga and Kageyama aren't immune, even having them wear gas masks whenever they encounter spores in case they run into anyone along the way.

_Number Two: "Whatever Daichi and Sugawara says is what goes."_

This one was greatly emphasized by Daichi at the two younger boys. Kageyama and Hinata may be the reason why they're traveling far to Hamamatsu, but they reign no right to command the two older males 'like pawns', as by Daichi's phrasing. Hinata had complied easily while Kageyama was more dubious to agree, but in the end, there were no spoken qualms about the rule.

_Number Three: "Don't always resort to your gun, but if you do, make every shot count."_

Not every battle is destined to be carried out with gunfire. Bullets are efficient, but they are also excruciatingly loud and especially scarce. If a horde is able to be parried away from, then do so with great caution in every step. If bandits are patrolling the area, then kill them one by one like a silent angel of death. A melee fight is always an option and is sometimes _the only option_ in many more cases than preferred.

They must pick and choose their battles wisely because a crack of gunfire will not always be what saves them, especially if they waste it all in one go.

"There, that's them." Daichi breathes, popping up from his spot the moment he sees a musty-grey Humvee pickup pull into view from where he is.

Clamorous shuffles sound beneath their feet as everyone gathers themselves up from the ground to hop over the church wall. The truck is parked at the designated location by the road, just barely out of plain sight from the walls of quarantine. Bokuto and Akaashi are seen exiting the truck with doors flying open, and they step out under the cloud-debauched sky with tired expressions wearing on both of their faces.

"Remind me of _who_ said to be here at 2 PM sharp?" Daichi remarks with a hubristic smirk that Akaashi doesn't give reaction to, despite him knowing the remark was aimed towards him.

"We mostly go by military time at the base," Akaashi replies dryly, an empty glare sticking intently on Daichi when he approaches.

"Hey, hey, hey! But we're here now, right?" Bokuto enthuses out in a core-shaking voice, hands raised in the air as if their appearance is that of an opening rendition. His smile splits through the exhausted look on his face like a shimmer of gold which is not unlike the color of his eyes. "The Bokuto and Akaashi Express!"

"An 'express' is usually defined for trains, Bokuto-san." Akaashi gives Bokuto a brow-raised look, curt and dull.

"Or a delivery service," Suga states. "Like cargo."

"Who's to say you guys _aren't_ cargo?" Bokuto says bluntly. "You can't define what we're doing in any other way than smuggling. We're _smuggling_ you guys through military territory."

Suga shrugs, throwing an innocent lip-pursed look at Daichi over his shoulder. "Yeah, I think I'll find peace in being treated like cargo."

Daichi snorts, his head shaking amusedly. "Careful what you wish for." He remarks. "And how you're saying it."

"In that case, could we please have the cargo packed in?" Akaashi's wary eyes comb around their surroundings with caution. "The quicker we depart, the quicker we will be back."

"Aye aye, Akaashi!" Bokuto hops towards the driver's side of the truck with undigisguised and questionable fervor, tossing the truck keys between his hands back and forth. "We can fit one in the shotgun, two in the back, and two on the trunk." He says before hauling himself into the driver's seat.

"I will be sitting in the trunk," Akaashi notes, climbing up the black-ridged platform of the trunk and settling against the bulkhead. His assault rifle leans in his lap, appearing rather innocent as opposed to its deadly nature. "In case any other military personnel drive by, we will be under the guise of escorting stragglers elsewhere."

"I'll sit in the trunk." Suga volunteers, hopping up the open tailgate and onto the trunk before anyone can claim the spot.

"You sure you'll be fine?" Daichi clarifies as he makes his way towards the shotgun seat, his gaze holding onto Suga.

"I'll never be better," Suga reassures with a wink, patting the grainy side of the truck with a few thunks. "Besides, always wanted to ride in the back of one of these things."

That elicits a toothy smile from the brunette before he disappears into the truck, the door slamming after him.

"Guess that leaves us no options," Kageyama mumbles, hand pulling the backseat door open to haul himself inside.

As with no surprise, Kageyama and Hinata are left to the backseats of the truck, with Kageyama taking the one behind Bokuto and Hinata behind Daichi. Their doors close in near unison with a swaying thud, and Bokuto's impatience prompts him to immediately start driving just moments afterward.

Suga feels the truck rumble beneath him as the vehicle starts moving, and he clutches onto the side to steady himself from the lurching start the drive has. He laughs softly from sheepish embarrassment, settling himself on the opposite end of the bulkhead from Akaashi, who seems to keep a deliberate distance between the two.

Suga is keen on picking up the discomfort in Akaashi's form, despite the latter's expression not conveying such feelings.

"I'm not infected," Suga reassures as friendly as he can possibly manage in his tone. He even pulls an unthreatening smile across his pale cheeks. "So, no need to be tense. I don't bite."

Akaashi merely gives a perfunctory glance at Suga, the dullness in his steel-blue eyes expressing disinterest before aiming them up at the grey clouds that are gathering in the heavens.

"It looks like it's about to rain." Akaashi avers observantly and offhandedly, completely ignoring Suga's attempt at offering reassurance.

Feeling blatantly unacknowledged, Suga acquiesces into silence and finds it best to not reiterate his words. His knuckles lock against each other in a nervous fidget, eventually turning his gaze up at the clouds upon observing that Akaashi hasn't taken his eyes off the sky.

The clouds paint the sky into a grey haze, almost like smoke with its dark-toned hue. Sunlight doesn't bleed past the grey obscurity, failing to serve warmth to the oppression-locked expanse of the Tokyo quarantine that grows smaller and smaller the further the truck drives. Everything exhibits a somber, near-monochrome look, and for a moment Suga wonders if he's suddenly become colorblind.

While staring at every crack and debris that looks synonymous to tombstones of a ghosted city, Suga feels a single raindrop land on his brow, sliding past the tip of his eye and down the apple of his cheek in a languid drizzle. He almost believes that it's simply his own teardrop spilling unknowingly out his eyes until he feels another droplet drip onto the tip of his nose.

Suga swipes a finger across the droplet, gathering it on his fingertip and staring down at it with a quizzical expression.

It really is raining.

\--

"Ah, it's raining!" Bokuto exclaims buoyantly, his gaze perusing across the windshield where raindrops leave wet craters on the glass. "Looks like Akaashi and your friend will be getting some drizzle."

Daichi peers out the windshield, watching the slight fall of raindrops pelt dully on the hood of the truck. It's a mere sprinkle, only enough to make the smallest of _pitter patter_ noises on the metals of the vehicle.

"They can handle a little rain." Daichi mumbles, slacking back against the hard cushions of the seat. He can't quite remember the last time he's been in a truck, and it feels odd to be watching the streets roll by so quickly out the window.

"Yeah, I know. I'm not worried about that though." Bokuto sighs peacefully, eyes glued to the road ahead. It seems a downcast expression is physically unable to cross onto Bokuto's inherently merry face. "But Akaashi is pretty fond of the rain. I'm just wondering how happy he probably is to feel it on his forehead."

Daichi looks rather dubious at that statement as he stares out the front window. "I can hardly imagine your comrade emoting _anything_. Let alone, happiness." He says it caustically, almost in an offending tone.

But Bokuto doesn't take it as such, pertaining a rather lighthearted attitude by returning a mere shrug as he idly steers the wheel with one hand.

"Akaashi feels things inwardly, but he still feels nonetheless," Bokuto replies guilelessly, a small adoring smile descrying on his lips. It's more of an innocent smirk, something that is far less enthusiastic than his usual wide smiles, something fonder. "And I don't consider him as just a comrade, that feels too impersonal."

"A comrade shouldn't feel _impersonal,_ " Daichi says with a sharp twinge in the last word, slanting his head to the side to look at Bokuto's profile.

"Well, yeah— I guess..." Bokuto chirps, feeling blatantly called out for his words. Both of his hands are on the wheel now, and a furrowing brow exhibits his efforts at articulating the right response.

Daichi perceives the expression on the soldier's face to be akin to a child trying to comprehend why the square block doesn't fit in the circle hole.

"But a comrade— it feels too much like _work_." Bokuto stammers out, his features brightening like a relit candle the moment the sentence slips from his lips. "Like _coworkers_. You don't refer to someone as _just a coworker_ unless you've got something against them."

"Sure," Daichi states impassively. He doesn't even try to pretend like he knows what Bokuto is saying.

"I like to see Akaashi as a _friend_." Bokuto hums, his gaze softening at the overgrown road when he mentions Akaashi's name. "Because friends don't just work together professionally. They see each other outside of work, you know? And I see Akaashi outside of work, so he's a friend."

Something that glows softly like a warm hearth is tucked away in those citrine eyes, a library of thoughts and memories that Daichi would not be able to access from the exterior alone. Unwanted curiosity germinates inside Daichi, something he tries to stave off within himself. So he restrains from inquiring, going by his own philosophy of minding his own business.

"A friend." Daichi echoes, tone heavy with thought. He remembers Kuroo referring to Bokuto and Akaashi as his _comrades_ , wondering if the raven soldier shares the same sentiment as Bokuto does with said word. "You consider Kuroo a friend?"

"Of course!" Bokuto responds without a single hitch of doubt. He almost sounds offended to be asked such a question, as if the answer should be blatantly obvious. "Kuroo is a good man, just a bit... out of it." He does a half shrug and gives a knowing look at Daichi before looking back at the road. "You can agree, right?"

"Sure," Daichi affirms, but he is uncertain as to whether he's lying or speaking honestly. It's something he doesn't quite try to do: solve the enigma that is Kuroo Tetsurou. It has simply never been something that Daichi has felt obligated to do. "Kuroo is out of it. If that's the proper way to define it."

"Yeah," Bokuto agrees, pausing for a moment with his mouth partly agape. "But the way I see Akaashi is very different from how I see Kuroo, even if they are both my friends."

Daichi doesn't prod on such a claim, nor does he tell Bokuto to stop, so the latter continues speaking.

"I-It's kind of like how you probably see that— silver-headed guy—"

"Sugawara?" Daichi clarifies, putting a rein on his suspicions from spilling accusatorily out his voice. "And what do _you_ know about us?"

"Nothing." Bokuto answers innocently, so innocently that it appears to be nothing but honesty. Such a guileless temperament from a well-built soldier addles Daichi. Bokuto seems incapable of uttering a single lie, even though being a soldier requires an innate skill at making empty promises. "I don't know, it just seems you care about him a lot from how you almost shot my skull in for his sake."

"Right." Daichi cracks a grin apologetically, and it's genuine. "Sorry about that."

"It's nothing, don't worry," Bokuto is swift to assure him with a cavalier wave of his hand. "I would've done the same for Akaashi if we were caught in the same fiasco. I guess that's how I assumed you and— _Sugawara—_ are the same as me and Akaashi."

"Right," Daichi says once again, this time with an airy tone. His arms fold across his chest without any intention to dwell on Bokuto's whole preface about Akaashi, though he catches himself dwelling nonetheless. Dwelling on Bokuto and Akaashi being of the same dynamic as him and Suga.

He finds it hard to imagine.

"Akaashi and I are like bread and butter!" Bokuto exclaims as if reading the doubts wandering in Daichi's head. The latter nearly coughs up a laugh from such a seemingly spontaneous statement.

"Who's the bread and who's the butter?" Daichi chortles.

"Does it matter?" Bokuto purses his lips into a near pout. "It doesn't matter who is who, what matters is that it _works_."

"Alright, and?"

Bokuto blinks, silent and dumbstruck with something unknown. "I don't know, it just felt like you didn't believe me."

"Huh?" Daichi says dumbly, feeling the cogs in his brain stop.

Scratch Kuroo Tetsurou being an enigma. The owl-resembling soldier named Bokuto sitting beside Daichi takes the cake for that title.

"The point is, I think, that I'm not mad you tried to kill me last night." Bokuto sputters out. "Because I would try to kill you too if you tried to kill Akaashi."

"Oh."

"Because— yeah— the bread and butter stuff is like— the same— applies to you and Sugawa—"

"Okay, okay, I've got the message." Daichi quickly affirms to relieve Bokuto of his poor articulation skills. Though he's got the right mind for it.

"You're quite an honest guy. Frankly, it kinda unnerves me." Daichi remarks aloud, not quite intending for it to be said, nor for it to assume an insensitive nature. But he doesn't take it back because he'll serve the same kind of honesty that Bokuto has been serving him.

Meeting someone so transparent with themselves is a rare occurrence. Transparency is usually a tactic performed by the most cunning people in an attempt to lure people into a false sense of equal-relationship. But that doesn't seem to be the case for Bokuto, because all he does is grunt an incoherent noise. No clear protest or agreement is given.

"It's the rain, I think, that unravels me." Bokuto chuckles wryly, curious golden eyes scanning around at the dampened and unleveled asphalt where precipitation has touched. "Like, rain is where you can cozy up at home, spill all your secrets with a half-drunken cup of booze on the couch, and forget everything else exists." His knuckles lock around the steering wheel idly, maybe painfully. "Forget that your job sucks and stuff."

Bokuto had mumbled that last part, all the jaunty spirit in his tone being stripped away into a sober sound. It's the first crestfallen look that finally drops onto Bokuto's features that reminds Daichi of what Kuroo had said to him back at their last shipment.

_"They're just as shit-faced done with the government as I am."_

And Daichi can only stare, uncertain of how to respond to the now quiet soldier.

"How are _you_ guys doing? Haven't heard you guys talk that much!" Bokuto directs his query up at the rearview mirror where a silent Kageyama and Hinata stare back. The liquid solemnity that had dressed his features just moments before are wiped clean, and a charismatic smile is effortlessly back on his face. It muddles Daichi with many questions about Bokuto's character.

And what he could be masking.

"Fine."

"Doing well!"

The pair answer at the same time, their voices melding together.

"Can I ask names? It's kinda hard referring to everyone as ' _friend'_." Bokuto speaks through a toothy grin, hopping subtly in his seat like a child himself. He looks at the reflection of Hinata to catch his brown-orbed gaze. "You! Name?"

"H-Hinata!" The redhead jumps in his seat, the image of him not unlike a jittery private being called to a lineup for the first time.

Bokuto laughs at this, the sound warm and bubbly with the ability to instill great comfort to anyone who hears it. "Remember, _I'm_ not the one that held a gun to your face! That was Akaashi!" Bokuto jests. "So, _at ease, soldier!"_

Hinata nervously chuckles but eventually does loosen the tension that locks him into an erect position.

"How about you, young soldier?" Bokuto glances over at Kageyama next, receiving the exact opposite response as he had from Hinata.

"Kageyama." Unenthused and dull, Kageyama deadpans his response. Exhaustion pleads guilty of making the raven blink slowly up at Bokuto, though it doesn't impede on Bokuto's natural response to almost shiver in his seat from the burning stare of a blue-eyed scowl.

"Man, you're scarier than Akaashi. So intense." Bokuto says grimly with a shudder, but he doesn't appear discouraged by Kageyama's naturally intense features. "Alright, Sawamura, Kageyama, Hinata, and Sugawara—" everyone's attention tends to the spiky-haired soldier, except Suga who is out on the trunk with Akaashi, "—what takes you guys out of Tokyo?"

"Just to Shizuoka to meet some people we know," Daichi answers, attempting to appease the stream of Bokuto's unrestrained questions.

"Shizuoka? Wow!" Bokuto marvels with a type of incredulity that makes it sound like he doesn't quite believe them. "That's a three-hour drive, but on foot, that's a whole other ballpark!"

"Which is why we're having you drive us." Daichi remarks. "To Yokohama, I mean."

"Who even waits for us in Shizuoka?" Kageyama asks, lifting his head from the window with an equivocal look muddling his features together. "Last I heard about that place, it's a fallen city."

"Fallen quarantine city?" Hinata asks.

"No, just fallen. Whatever that could mean," Kageyama says airily before darting a retorting look at Hinata. "You were there when the colony explained this stuff, dumbass."

Hinata responds with an attempt at a murderous scowl that would only be of use against a litter of puppies. Kageyama snickers devilishly at this, causing Hinata to squawk embarrassingly at the taller boy.

"It's a fallen city because it was bombed twice." Bokuto quips in, distracting the younger boys from their tense glare off. The tension between the pair melts like snow under the sun, the sun being the warmth in Bokuto's ridiculously yellow eyes. "One on the south end, one on the north end."

"Was Bokuto-san a part of the bombing job?" Hinata asks, his back unknowingly leaning forward with attentive fervor.

"Me? Nahhhh." Bokuto denies, his head shaking with an amused grin at the way the enthusiastic vigor in Hinata's gaze never quits. "The bombing happened way before I was even born. Now it's probably just overrun with infected like any other detonated city."

"Part of that is true." Daichi rectifies. "A group of hunters live in that city, and they're a client of ours."

"But I thought you said only madmen go through unquarantined cities," Hinata says.

"Well," Daichi hesitates, mind crossing with the search of the right words. "Let's just say that these hunters _are_ madmen. And they don't just go _through_ the city, they _own_ the city."

"These bastards must be monsters," Bokuto says incredulously, just as intrigued as Kageyama and Hinata are.

"You're not far from the truth with that statement," Daichi admits casually, shifting in his seat to face Kageyama and Hinata. He wears a grim smirk that slants the edge of his lips, a look that is usually worn on someone who is about to tell a melodramatic horror story. "Wanna know the difference between bandits and hunters?"

Daichi takes the pair's silently rapt stares as an invitation to answer his own question.

"Bandits are just a group of hoodlums that have no other means of survival than looting and robbing other survivors," Daichi explains. "Hunters are far more organized and predatory. And they don't just rob survivors, they _hunt_ them. Go out on a drive outside Shizuoka and shoot down anyone they see like they're hunting a bunch of wild deer."

Hence, the name hunters. That lightbulb blooms clarity in Kageyama and Hinata's features as it rises other curiosities out of them.

"H-hunt?" Hinata gulps, mouth parched with sudden anxiety. "D-Do they _eat_ people?"

Daichi stifles a grim laugh, and Bokuto seems to be doing the same as his shoulders quake at the effort. It truly doesn't take much to push the redhead into a state of trepidation.

"They're hunters, not cannibals, kid." Daichi chortles with his back relaxing again. "And they won't be preying on you either. If they know you're with me and Suga, they'll keep their hands to themselves."

"How do you even get wrangled up in business with people like them?" Kageyama asks, expression askance.

"Dunno." Daichi shrugs, quite unsure himself of how he and Suga even got on the hunters' good side. But one thing is for sure: it's a hell of a benefit. "They're materialistic and think in transactions. We give them what they want, and they'll return the same. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. They hold that phrase with an extreme passion."

Daichi gives one last taunting look at the pair in the backseat. "But, just stick by me and Suga when we get there, and hope they don't accidentally shoot you down like a buck in the wild." The brunette turns back ahead, the corner of his playful smirk being caught by Kageyama's intent stare.

Hinata startles, his eyes wide and shoulders locked with a twitching tension while Kageyama wonders if it's too late to do a hail mary and catapult himself out of this moving truck with disgust. Even death seems sweeter than listening to Daichi's caustic remarks.

Whether his sentiments are hyperbolic or genuine, Kageyama knows his answer when he remains glued in his seat, finding better suit in silence than voicing his displeasures.

\--

The humdrum pattern to which the rain drips on Suga's forehead threatens to lull him to sleep, the bulkhead of the truck growing warm under his neck. Insomnia has Suga grasping for a bit of shut-eye _anywhere_ , whether it be for two minutes or two hours. Sleep is sleep, nonetheless.

"Did it hurt?" Akaashi suddenly inquires out of nowhere, his voice cracking tepidly when he speaks at a measly volume.

Suga hadn't realized his eyes were closed until he opens them to look at Akaashi. The latter has finally spoken, has finally decided to properly acknowledge Suga with a blunt stare that may or may not have startled the ashen-blonde if it weren't for the soldier's intense, gunmetal-blue eyes.

Suga blinks, lips parting slightly as he looks back at a patiently expectant Akaashi. He clears his throat instead, addled by the sudden question.

"Sorry?" Suga asks, tucking a flyaway strand of hair behind his ear nervously. A sheepish stretch of his lips show his pearly teeth where an awkward laugh escapes through.

"Did it hurt when you got bitten?" Akaashi restates, still in the same tone.

"Oh, _oh!"_ Suga softly laughs, the sound light and fluttery. "I think so."

"You _think_ so." Akaashi parrots, clearly puzzled as shown by the slightest distress of his features.

"I don't really remember the pain of it." Suga shrugs, his eyes staring where the rain is slipping drizzles down the black tailgate of the truck. His hand subconsciously goes to grip his left shoulder where the bite is scarred over. "I was too busy being scared. The kick of adrenaline might have had something to do with it."

All Suga can muster is a light-hearted laugh, one that is breathy and trying desperately to downplay the crude trauma of such an experience. That moment sometimes revisits Suga in the form of nightmares, each one ending in a way that _didn't_ happen. The one he loathes the most out of all is the one where Daichi reveals he was bitten too, except _he_ ends up turning while Suga never does.

And Suga is always relieved to wake up and realize it was nothing but a sick dream.

Akaashi detaches his gaze from Suga and stares off down the receding street. Despite his ungiving expression, the weight that his gaze carries isn't hidden from Suga.

"Why didn't you just... end it?" Akaashi trails off. "I apologize, is that insensitive of me to ask?"

"No, it's just fine." Suga reassures, a sweet smile backing up his claim. "Daichi wouldn't let me."

"Daichi." Akaashi states what was supposed to be a clarifying query, but his tone is flat.

"Sawamura, as you know him. I call him Daichi," Suga says. "He wouldn't let me end it, but, it all worked out in the end, didn't it?"

"More or less." Akaashi shrugs, still not looking at the other male. "Yes, you lived from it. But what now?"

"Pardon?"

"This world—" Akaashi shrugs again, his gun nudging around its spot on his shoulder, "—is it really worth living in?"

The phrase shouldn't be so unsurprising to hear. Almost every person Suga has encountered have imposed the same question: why live in such a cruel world? Humanity is coralled, infection doesn't stop, and it keeps on mutating for all they know. Nobody has any means to live other than to survive, and as much as everyone wonders the same question, they keep on living.

Because it's all they can do.

"Are you scared of the infected?" Suga asks, proposing his own offhand question at the soldier.

"What else is there to be scared of?" Akaashi counters, eyes tentative in looking over at Suga. "There's nothing worse."

"The infected?" Suga asks. "Or to _be_ infected?"

Silence from Akaashi. The soldier's silence is the most damning to hear. Despite his simple-wordedness speaking through the filter of his formal manners, his eyes appear constantly calibrating while his lips remain sealed. As much as Suga doesn't quite understand why, it disconcerts him how perceivably convoluted Akaashi's thoughts are just by looking into his eyes.

"The latter, I suppose," Akaashi mutters, almost as if he's unwilling to admit it. "It's the only thing I'm scared of."

"What about your loved ones?" Suga asks. "What about them getting infected?"

Akaashi doesn't respond again, instead he shifts in his seat to fully turn towards Suga, his attention glued to him. This could be a tell-tale sign of the soldier deciding to engage in a direct conversation.

"Then I guess I'm scared of that too." Akaashi admits, his tone slowly unravelling into something more giving to his emotions. It's nothing explicit, in fact, it's subtle. But the smallest of subtleties, Suga can pick up on. "But I'd rather be the one to get bitten than someone I care about."

"It's easy to say and think that," Suga states despite sharing the same sort of mindset. "Essentially, if you're scared of the infected and you get bitten, you'd be scared of your own self, right? Or rather, what you're doomed to become."

"It's easy to be scared of your own self," Akaashi says. "Because, between normal people and the infected, is there any real difference? In nature?"

Suga can feel his teeth clattering amongst themselves into a clench, the sound of his enamels grinding in his ear at how easily the message of Akaashi's query hits him. It's like a pothole to his gut, sinking and sinking down within him to let a cruel reality fill its void.

"There is none." Suga replies, his voice small from the distinct twinge of guilt he feels weaving around his ribs, and Akaashi's curt nod speaks of his agreement.

Whether or not you are infected, the same nature is seeded inside: the ability to pick someone apart in an extensive degree of rigor. Normal people have the same animalistic capabilities as the infected, though it's buried beneath a multitude of humane layers, giving them the ability to stray away from such instincts. But being infected is what brings those ruthless capabilities to the surface.

Essentially, all the infection does is shred apart someone's humanity to reveal something far uglier that has always been inside the person to begin with.

"What about a vaccine?" Suga asks carefully. Akaashi appears mortally surprised by the suggestion.

"What about it?" Akaashi asks.

"I don't know, what do you think of it?" Suga elaborates, feeling his vocals quiver at the fact that he is touching the topic that he was told to never discuss. But as long as he doesn't associate himself with the key to the vaccine, all should be fine, right? Loopholes.

"It sounds... nice," Akaashi says with a small, minuscule smile. The look is sober rather than hopeful as he sits there to think about it. "But also impossible."

"But imagine if it _was_ possible."

"Then I wouldn't be scared anymore. If I can't get infected, then what else is there to fear?"

"You're really scared of getting infected, aren't you?" Suga remarks aloud, pitiful but also comforting.

Akaashi only nods, words failing him at expressing his agreement to Suga's claim. He appears thoughtful, cogs spinning through the veils of his dry expression as he grills whatever he has in mind over and over before calculating a response.

"How much do you know about this vaccine?" Akaashi asks, his response turning up to be a question instead.

"I know nothing." Suga replies quickly. His speech is unsuspicious, but he still nearly has a heart attack. "It was just a hypothetical."

"Then, do you _think_ the vaccine be able to turn back anyone who already is infected?" Akaashi wonders. "Like a clicker? Stalker even?"

Suga gulps, then answers earnestly, "probably not."

The fungus would have torn away at the skin and brain far too much to be able to be repaired at that point.

Suga spots a grimace on Akaashi's shoulders, a flash of gruelling disappointment percolating into the blues of his eyes before being discarded away into a dry expression. Heavy curiosity gathers into words at the tip of Suga's tongue, about to question at the soldier's expression, but he refrains. Whatever bubbled in Akaashi's eyes seems too personal for Suga to bring up, and the latter prefers not to overstep.

They feel the truck slow beneath them, ever so gradually before nudging to a complete stop. The road below them has stopped receding, and Akaashi visibly expresses confusion at the pause. This confuses Suga too, and he questions.

"Are we already there?" Suga asks, watching Akaashi comb his gaze around the overgrown and unfamiliar town that circles around the road.

"Not even close." Akaashi replies before thunking three knocks against the truck, his gaze peering over towards the driver's window. "Bokuto-san, what's the hold up?"

The sound of a window rolling down is followed by Bokuto's full-voiced response. "Uh... _that_."

Both Akaashi and Suga haul themselves onto their knees to peer over the roof of the truck, gazes pausing on the obstacle ahead with overwhelming disgust at the sight.

A grotesque pile of infected corpses block the road, charred black and brown from the remains of a raging fire that has left its mark in the form of ashes. The pile is almost mistaken as dirt from how marred away the infected's features and fungi are, and the light rain drips suds down their crisp remains.

"Ugh, what the hell..." Suga mumbles, the bridge of his nose wrinkling with tension.

"Well, then we'll find a detour." Akaashi instructs over at the driver's window.

"There's a catch, Akaashi..." Bokuto says dreadfully, the tone alarming to hear. The truck makes a chugging sound, a loud and rhythmic gurgle of the engine attempting to rev back to life. Though it never does, and the truck remains dormant. "The battery's run out of juice."

"It's not completely out of juice," Akaashi notes upon hearing the weak and repetitious revving of the engine. "Just keep turning the ignition, and it usually jumps back to life."

Bokuto complies to the directions, but nothing about the truck's movement changes. Just the same _grrrg, grrrg, grrrrrg,_ keeps on sounding with no success. A frustrated noise comes from the driver's seat, and Bokuto pops his spikey-haired head out the window at Akaashi.

"Akaashi, I think we need to give it a push," Bokuto states.

"Push? Push where?" Akaashi gestures ahead at the road with emphasis. "There's a blockage."

"It's still a considerable distance away, we can do it!" Bokuto exclaims, and it's true that the pile of deceased infected are still a good seventy meters away.

Akaashi grumbles amongst himself, his jaw working itself into a grind before curtly sighing. "Fine." Akaashi relents, hoisting himself over the side of the trunk to land on the concrete with a scuffle. "But you're pushing too, Bokuto-san."

"Akaashi, but I need to pop the clutch."

"You're strong, Bokuto-san, you'll get the car up to 15kph the fastest. And considering how close the blockage is, we'll need to push the car fast enough to pop the clutch early." Akaashi argues sternly, motioning towards himself. "Now out."

"Then who's gonna drive?" Bokuto asks.

"Me, of course," Akaashi replies.

"Akaashi," Bokuto says, ceasing the breathy laughter threatening to escape him. "I don't intend for this to be rude, but you're not the best at popping the clutch."

Akaashi doesn't appear fazed by the bluntness of Bokuto's words, returning a narrowing stare. "I pop it nonetheless. Now please get out. All of you. All of you need to push."

All the doors to the truck swing open and the passengers slip out onto the road. Suga hops down from the trunk beside Daichi and Hinata, while Kageyama and Bokuto stand by the opposite side of the vehicle. Akaashi situates himself into the driver's seat, door closing but his voice still clearly audible from the open window.

"I'll let you all know when I'm about to release the clutch. Then I need you guys to step out of the way," Akaashi's disembodied voice informs.

"Okay, alright!" Bokuto barks, his shoulders rolling back in a stretch. He rubs his hands together fervently with a jaunty jump in his step when he makes his way behind the truck. "We all need to push as hard we can! Yeah?"

Everyone else's unenthused responses are unmatched to Bokuto's beaming attitude when he slaps his palms onto the tailgate. Suga and Daichi take to the righter side of the tailgate while Kageyama and Hinata tend to the left, and Bokuto takes the direct center. No surprise there when the soldier is the most built out of them all. Who knows what muscles hide beneath the cloaking uniform?

On the count of three, they all start pushing. The tail lights of the truck flicker off, a sign of the clutch being pressed, and the wheels start its slow spin against the grassed-over asphalt.

Suga feels the muscle beneath his skin flex, his jaw mimicking the same tension when his feet dig against the ground to push the truck ahead.

"How're you holding up there?" Daichi asks through a strained breath, his own muscles working on a steady push.

"Are you— mocking me?" Suga stilts out, a chuckle catching in his words. He knows he's not the most brawny, especially compared to Daichi.

"Depends how you take it," Daichi replies ambiguously with an aslant grin. Dammit, he's so smug, but Suga can't deny that he kinda loves it.

"Fuck you," Suga says, in more than one way if he's being real honest here. Daichi hums satisfactorily as he blinks a brief glance over at him, playful and suggestive.

"Just have sex in the trunk, will you?" Kageyama remarks from beside Bokuto, clearly directed at the pair's thick sexual tension.

"I'm sure _you'll_ enjoy getting an eyeful of _that_ action." Daichi quips. "As you have before."

Kageyama makes a noise that borders between a gag and a grunt, perhaps with a blush dusting around his cheekbones as he lowers his head between his locked elbows. Hinata giggles beside Kageyama, muttering teasing taunts at the raven's embarrassment.

"Daichi, I'm gonna snip your dick, I swear to god." Suga grumbles at the memory, and Bokuto erupts into laughter at the mention of _dick_.

" _Ouch._ I can feel your words." Bokuto chortles, his legs shifting between themselves in emphasis of the phantom pain in his crotch.

"If you ever come to snip it," Daichi says, eyeing Suga's expression. "It's _your_ loss."

"Oh _ho ho,_ better keep one eye open the next time you get a hard-on." Suga glowers, giving a huge eye roll of the ages with a jestful smile evident on his lips. "I'll _show_ you that I don't need your dick in order to get off."

"Sh-Should I be listening?" Hinata mutters innocently to himself as he pushes against the truck.

"What, you too chicken to engage in dick talk?" Kageyama jeers with a shit-eating grin.

"What— no— I'm not!" Hinata sputters, eyebrows drawing close into an offended frown. "I'm not _chicken._ If anything, _you are_ after you ran away from _them—"_ Hinata nods towards Daichi and Suga, "—having sex in the supply room!"

"Oh. My. God. _Please stop_." Suga begs with a desperate grumble ringing out his teeth. Bokuto whistles a descending note at the remark, smirking while doing so.

"What else was I supposed to do? Stand there and _watch?"_ Kageyama's voice climbs volume, the glare in his eyes burning holes in Hinata's stupid face.

"Suga, don't deny it, you would have liked that." Daichi pokes.

"Say sayonara to your dick, _bitch_." Suga spits, another curse being uttered from him.

Two curses from Suga in a day; that has to mean _something_. Something that Daichi should probably watch out for if he values his dick enough to care.

"Let go! Now!" Akaashi's voice splits through the comedic atmosphere with a shout of command.

Laughs recede into silence the moment everyone detaches their hands from the truck, their feet stopping to watch the yellow tail lights flicker back to life. The engine revs, _loud_ , chugging and rumbling a ponderous sound that vibrates clumsily through the town. It's an explicit sign of the battery being revived, and the truck stops its drive a few meters away from the mountain of corpses blocking the road.

Everyone claps and cheers, hollering with success at the revival of the truck. The engine is loud, despite it being fifty meters away.

Doesn't take much to realize that that's a terrible sign.

The truck suddenly starts backing up in reverse, quickly and suddenly. The tires screech against the asphalt with shreds of the grass flying every which way beneath the rubber. The reason is unknown, and at first, Bokuto laughs.

"Akaashi, be careful!" Bokuto calls outs, presuming the act to be the result of a clumsy mistake.

But his face immediately falls at the sound of infected squawking in the distance. The sounds are buried under the rev of the engine but are distinguishable at the peaks of the runners' screeches. The buildings beside the road start spilling out infected, all of which with freshly infected runners. They swat at the hood of the truck, chasing it as Akaashi speeds in reverse.

"Move, move, move!" Bokuto and Daichi exclaim, pushing everyone aside to let the truck skitter to a stop between the dispersed group.

"You have two seconds to get in!" Akaashi shouts, the words slurred together in a rush at the approach of moaning, rabid runners from the road ahead.

Daichi pushes Suga towards the shotgun as his hands already grip at the side of the trunk.

" _Hey—"_

"I'll be fine." Daichi cuts Suga's sentence short, having already climbed into the trunk with Bokuto.

Suga makes a frustrated grumble but swings himself next to the driver's seat as Hinata and Kageyama climb into the backseats. The ashen-blonde looks back at the two younger males, offering a reflexive, reassuring smile.

"Seatbelts in?" Suga commands rather than asks in an oddly sweet tone.

A dual _click_ snaps the seatbelts securely over Kageyama and Hinata's chest just in time for the truck to begin its violently swiveling turn. Everyone lurches to the right as the truck curves left, running over a few runners with shiver-inducing snaps sounding beneath the tires.

"Shit..." Akaashi curses sharply as he handles the stick shift into reverse in a trill of cracks.

The wheels start up again, rearing the truck backwards from the onslaught of ear-piercing screams that cry out from the runners, their hands slapping against the truck to leave bloody marks on its surface. Another trill of cracks from the stick shift, and the truck speeds off after a dangerously large curve to the left that eventually levels itself out into a straight drive down the road.

_Clack! Clack!_

Gunshots. Suga turns back to see through the back window, and crimson blood sprays onto the glass.

_Click._

"Kageyama, what are you _doing?"_ Suga exclaims at the sound of Kageyama seatbelt being undone.

The raven sits up in his seat, his fingers gripped around his gun.

"There are infected hanging onto the trunk!" Kageyama dangerously sticks his torso out the window and fires a bullet towards the back.

The truck runs over a "bump" and lurches everyone upwards, and Hinata yanks at Kageyama's overshirt to haul him back into the safety of the vehicle before he could tumble completely out the window. Kageyama falls back, his spine knocking into the coffee cupholders as he makes a guttural grunt of pain.

Hinata wraps his around around the ravens chest, wrangling him in place on his lap.

"Don't do that again, Bakageyama!" Hinata exclaims as the truck hits another bump in the road.

Too busy feeling the throb of pain in his back, Kageyama doesn't protest.

_Clack!_

The truck veers to the right, and both Daichi and Bokuto clutch onto the sides to anchor themselves in place.

The body of a runner sits dead beside them, the dark red of its blood being barely visible on the black platform. Its face is pressed flush against the ridges, its arm cleanly torn off the body from the violent shot of Daichi's bolt-action rifle. The arm sits beside the unused assault rifle by Bokuto's side, collecting nothing but splatters of blood on its sleek textures.

_Clack!_

Bokuto's handgun cracks a bullet into a runner that was desperately clinging onto the tailgate that now goes limp and tumbles onto the road in a puddle of its own blood. The corpse becomes smaller and smaller the faster Akaashi drives, but the wailing of the infected have stopped.

Now it's only the wind that howls between them.

Bokuto slacks down against the bulkhead, the whites of his hair tainted by blotches of red. His cheek is swiped with blood as well, but no bite is evident on the exposed scapes of his skin.

Daichi stares at the soldier, having already settled down against the bulkhead, then stares down at the assault rifle. The assault rifle that had remained untouched.

Tired, golden eyes catch the brunette's quizzical gaze at the firearm, and answers the query dressed in his eyes. "I don't like that gun."

"Great excuse."

"No, really." Bokuto sighs, strong fingers combing through his blood-stuck locks. "I don't have good memories shooting that thing. I think it's cursed."

Daichi almost laughs, and it's breathy from his lips. "Cursed?"

"Cursed." Bokuto restates, voice somber, eyes pained. "Every living thing I kill with that gun comes back to haunt me."

Daichi looks back at the gun, its trigger unused and material still fresh albeit the splatters of blood on it.

"Akaashi doesn't really use it either," Bokuto says, his hand tracing down the firearm to wipe off the blood. "But he's not a baby like me. He can handle killing people with this way better than I can."

"You'll still need it when you need it," Daichi avers.

"I know," Bokuto states, expression unreadable and so unexplainably tired. "I still use it, I just don't prefer to."

Daichi could choose to be an asshole, say that that attitude is what will get him killed. Except the sleepy look in Bokuto's eyes blend off into something else. It's an unravelled look compared to his usually jovial glances, curtains drawn away from his expression, a raw look into the windows of his true self.

The shell of his eyes are glimmery, golden and citrine. Though inside, it's hollow, carved into an empty space that is meant to harbor nothing but memories.

And nightmares.

So instead, Daichi holds his tongue and lets the rest of the drive be silent.

\--

The truck stops again for the second time, and this time, it's for good.

 _Grrrg, grrrrg, grrrr_ —

Then the gurgles stop.

Bokuto continues to turn the ignition, having taken the driver's seat from Akaashi after the latter had claimed the truck won't start again. He twists the key, over and over without rest, but no guttural gurgle revs life to the battery.

"I think it's a goner." Bokuto huffs, mouth twisting at the debacle as he slumps back into the seat, eyes listlessly scanning around the steering wheel and gears of the truck.

"We have jumper cables." Akaashi suggests from outside the truck. "There are plenty of abandoned cars here, we can—"

"Yeah, yeah, but we can do that after." Bokuto dismisses, his bubbly gait having returned. He jumps out of the truck, slamming the door closed and leaving Akaashi to step back with a puzzled look.

"After _what?"_ Akaashi asks, displeased and unnerved.

No response is given, whether it be deliberate or not as Bokuto looks around at their surroundings, taking in the pile of powerlines and used-to-be buildings that lie in a heap of debris. They're in a town, one that collects nothing but dust and ruin on its streets. The bus station to the left is sunken into the ground with collapse as the withered sign beside it reads _BUS,_ telling what the building used to be.

The town is exceptionally small, only able to squeeze in one long road that leads off in one uniform direction. Though it's blocked beyond comprehension by stalks of powerlines and totaled semis.

It's another blockage, not a surprise, but also impassable.

"This is the only road that leads to Yokohama," Bokuto suddenly speaks, his voice containing the same eagerness that drips in his wide eyes. "Every other way, other than the one we just detoured from, was labeled impassable by the military, right?"

Discomforting tension twists in Akaashi's shoulders, knowing Bokuto's words are a precursor to something that Akaashi knows he won't like. "Yes," Akaashi affirms slowly, purely reluctant. "But we can find another road, a really obscure one if we—"

" _But,_ Yokohama is just on the other side of this!" Bokuto says with an enthusiasm that does not befit the displeased tension building in Akaashi's silent stare. "And finding a new road will take time, and we have a shift in a few hours."

"What are you proposing?"

"That we help them, the cargo—" Bokuto nods over at the quartet busying themselves across the street behind Akaashi, unaware of the soldiers' conversation, "—through this building, and then come back here to jumpstart the truck so we can head back home." He points up at the building to the right. It's tall and bulky in a triad of warehouse-sized foundations conjoined together, all draped in a waxy cape of green vines that swathe over the brick foundation. "The side of the building, there, you see it?"

Akaashi peers over where Bokuto points, his finger anchored straight onto the balcony beside the dome-shaped roof that must be at least more than a few stories up. A ladder peeks out from the railing, leading straight down onto the other side of the obtrusive debris.

Akaashi frowns, clearly conveying his disapproval. "They can do that on their own. We've done our piece, Bokuto-san. Let's just go back."

" _Akaashi_ ," Bokuto whines and grips onto Akaashi's wrist before he can turn away. His eyes are pleading, liquefied even, making it far too easy for Akaashi to sink into them. "Remember what Kuroo said? To Yokohama."

"He won't know if we don't say. And again, _we've done our piece_."

"But our piece isn't done," Bokuto reasons. "Not even close."

"We've done as much as there was for us to do. They're capable, they can..." The words catch and crack in Akaashi's throat, but he continues. "They can get through it on their own."

"Akaashi—"

"No." Akaashi shakes his head. "Please stop being so _pushy_ , Bokuto-san, it's becoming too much." The words sting even for Akaashi to say, but Bokuto doesn't relent.

"Akaashi, _please_." Bokuto implores once again, this time taking hold of Akaashi's other wrist as well to connect their foreheads into a gentle touch. It's as if he's trying to forge their thoughts under the same agreement.

Akaashi curses himself for being so weak to Bokuto's persuasive gestures because he is rendered silent under the warm heat of Bokuto's entreating tone.

"I don't want the same thing to happen again." Bokuto whispers, eyes closed, voice small only for Akaashi to hear against his nose. "Not again."

The veins beneath Akaashi's back grow numb with guilty recognition, numb with the dread that ignites a screen of memories in front of his eyes. His wrists are shaking, steadied only by the tender touch of Bokuto's fingers that are warm and familiar, comforting since the beginning of it all.

"Please don't bring that up," Akaashi mumbles, feeling his mind retreat into the depths of his conscience: a place Akaashi finds himself seeking solace in far too often.

"We can't avoid it."

"Just _move on, Bokuto-san_." Akaashi grits out, the first sign of bubbling impatience escaping through his clenched teeth.

"I know you haven't either, Akaashi." Bokuto mumbles back. He doesn't cave into the raven's icy tone.

 _How stubborn_. Akaashi thinks, and suddenly he is starting to reconsider. It's the magic of Bokuto's influence, almost like a spell.

"They're not the same as him." Akaashi mutters, his mind slipping from its sense of reason. He's trying to desperately deny the urge pushing at his thoughts. "We don't know them. We barely know them—"

"But we know Kuroo," Bokuto says hushedly. "And Kuroo knew him too."

 _Well fuck that_. Akaashi thinks to himself, aggressively, persistently, trying to will away his conceding thoughts. They're close, _so close_ to freedom. It's only a single night away, and he doesn't want to risk it into oblivion by marching through an unknown building.

But guilt drags him by the feet, has him hanging upside down until he finally gives agreeement.

"Okay." Akaashi whispers, sighs out, voice hesitant and maybe a tad shaky with his eyes lowered.

Bokuto gives a sad but dulcet, close-lipped smile before raising his hands to squeeze fondly at Akaashi's arms.

"I'm sorry, Akaashi. For being pushy." Bokuto apologizes, trying to meet Akaashi's blue-eyed look that is cast away at the ground. "But I'll make it up to you once we get back."

Akaashi knows Bokuto means his apologies, and he knows that Bokuto always keeps to his word when he says he'll make it up to him. So he can't be angry even if he tried.

"We'll make it out of here together." Bokuto assures with a pump of encouraging sincerity weaved in his tone. His smile attests to the sentiment, and Akaashi nods affirmatively.

Akaashi never unravels for anyone, except Bokuto, and maybe Bokuto knows that.

Bokuto delivers the plan to the four survivors, the _cargo_. They all strap on their gas masks as a precautionary step before trekking away from the truck and to the building. The doors are thick with layers of wood shaved away into paler colors, and the gold-colored handles are eroded by dark, ugly rust.

The door is swung open by Bokuto, who holds the door for everyone to file into the vestibule. Spores float in the dark air, the yellow speckles of its presence being illuminated by the brief opening of the entrance doors.

"Jesus, this is a _lot_ for the first floor," Suga mutters. His voice has an artificial echo to it from beneath his gas mask.

"Just means a lot of dead ones in here," Daichi notes, eyes peering where his flashlight illuminates. "It's dark too."

Hinata and Kageyama stare through the dark as well, their newly obtained flashlights on their backpacks lighting a path for them. Akaashi urges the four ahead in following Bokuto as he treads out of the vestibule that has its doors unhinged and snapped in disarrayed pieces on the ground.

A sign welcomes them in, the corners chipped and replaced with streaked bloody handprints.

 ____ Museum of __ and Historical ____.

The dark characters are faded away into illegible colors, but it serves its purpose nonetheless of what exactly the building is since overgrowth masks the building's name on the outside.

The ceilings are high, and countless amounts of debris are laying askew across the ground and down the curving stairwell on the right side of the wall. The room is wide, even breathtaking with its leaks of daylight shining windows of clarity on the faded murals that casade down the marble-looking walls.

"This one still looks fresh," Suga remarks at the circular shape of a bowl that he takes in his hands. The texture is still burnished, the colors even vibrant. He looks down the long row of stone stands, each one with some sort of pottery sitting on top.

"What is this place?" Hinata asks, his wandering hands tracing precariously around a few cracked pieces of ceramic on one of the stone stands.

Suga looks down at his feet where a few precious art pieces are shattered on the ground, old and crudely scattered against the marble. "I think the exhibits are hinting at a historical pottery museum."

"It's a shame that these ancient things are just rotting in here now. Broken too." Daichi crunches past a path of broken ceramics below his feet. "Just goes to say how much of our history is just thrown out the window."

"We make new history now," Suga says, rueful hope evident in his small, sheepish smile that no one can see from behind his mask. "History is everywhere."

"Guys, guys!" Bokuto stage whispers sharply from up the stairs. His arm urges them over in a hurry with a smile. "Up the stairs, the plaque says there's a stairwell behind these doors!"

The promising statement has everyone travelling up the elongated curve of the sculpted stairs, presumably made of quartz that is now clad in a mixture of old and new bloodstains. The stairs traverse up into high levels, the lobby below them growing further and further away from their eyes. Another thick door awaits them at the top, this time being colossal in height to the point the doorframe reaches its high ceiling. It reminds Hinata and Kageyama of a cathedral with its intimidating size, and its patterned, symmetrical carvings in the wood.

One doorhandle is dismantled and on the rugged floor, the other one being intact. Bokuto pulls at it, and the door silently complies in unveiling the room it hides. It's heavy when Bokuto holds it open for everyone to hurry in, and he hurries in as well the moment the first resounding click of a clicker cracks like firecrackers in the room.

_Kekeke... Keke._

The door closes quietly and slowly behind the soldier, and Bokuto joins by Daichi's side in a crouch behind a long, stone stand of ceramics.

_Kekeke!_

Suga and Hinata shield themselves behind a row of velvety chairs, Akaashi behind a stone stand, and Kageyama standing behind a thick wooden column.

They're all silent, lips sealed, throat parched with a slow creep of anxiety up the scape of their backs and consuming them with adrenaline that pulses in their ears. The clickers are unaware, their backs tensing then hunching in contorted movements as they keep on trilling out clicks from their foul mouths left agape. The fungi has burst past their eyes, leaving them blind and reliant on their clicks to help gauge their surroundings through echoes.

_Kekeke... kekekeke!_

Bokuto peeks over the top of the stone, eyes gauging his surroundings through the dark. The room is large and rectangular with the plainest of colors lining the walls, but at the other end of the room from them is the mighty sight of a wooden staircase.

But what stands between them and the staircase, are countless rows of identical stone tables with pottery on top, and a countless number of clickers patrolling the space, each one slow and twitching as they walk between rows.

A slight sound, brief and small made from Daichi's hand taking a piece of ancient pottery off the stone stand above him. The noise goes undetected by the clickers, but Bokuto notices, watching Daichi silently nod over at the staircase while looking at Bokuto and the others beside him.

Everyone nods with unspoken approval and braces anxiously when Daichi chucks the piece of pottery down the left of the room where it's far from the proximity of the staircase.

_Crack! Clatter!_

The clickers screech in tumult, and alarm has them going _krEEee!_ before speeding off towards where Daichi had tossed the ceramic lure.

Everyone immediately pulls themselves up, hurried but heavily cautious in their step as they speed-walk to the open staircase, the path there now clear of infected. The clickers are still busy investigating the side of the room, the sounds they make being nothing but a mere echo.

Akaashi is the first to arrive at the staircase with one of the lightest of footsteps that could rival Suga's own feathery ones. Though despite such care being put into each weight of his step, the wood creaks below Akaashi at the foot of the stairs, _dangerously_.

The wood doesn't just creak, it _croaks_ , loud enough to make Akaashi pause when he feels the first step beneath his right boot crack under its weight.

The train of people stop with Suga behind Akaashi, and he can't even ask the latter what's wrong when the wood splits and partially caves beneath the soldier.

_Snap!_

A long rearing croak of the stairs penetrate the near quiet with Akaashi's right leg halfway down the hole. He feels the wood continue to snap and crack below him, and now above him, as he twists back in an attempt to escape. Panic is on shore in Akaashi's mind, his indifferent face being marred with such emotion, and his instincts oscillate between the urge to move and the urge to stay still for he is unsure as to which option is the safest.

A hand clasps onto Akaashi's arm, holding him reassuringly. "I got you, hold on!" Suga exclaims, eyes wide behind the screen of his gas mask and fingers meandered tight around the baggy material of Akaashi's uniform.

But the hole continues to cave as all tangible material gives in below Akaashi, and he's falling down with the air soaring past his cheeks at the drop. Wood pieces follow him in as the light of everyone's flashlight blink alarmingly down the abyss. He hears his name being shouted into echoes, the presence of the clickers being forgotten, with the mixture of someone else's name as well.

Which could only mean that he isn't falling down alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The Curse of The Fold - Shawn James](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RJrgpLvhYmk)
> 
> I apologize that this chapter is uneventful, but next chapter will be a treat :)
> 
> shdbaihsdb and oK so here's the deal: updates might get a little less consistent, but still relatively consistent nonetheless. Writing every single day is a recipe for BURNOUT so, Imma check myself out of the writing world every now and then for a break. Yay? Yay.
> 
> Also oml I've been meaning to say this for a while, but I saw The Last of Us: Part II like last month and it hURT HOLY SHIT.  
> (Mini rant of my thoughts on the game starts now): Lots of people hated it (like _looooooooooooots_ ) but after a mountainous amount of time thinking about it, grilling it over, and watching several review videos from both people who loved it and people who hated it, I can say that overall, it was a BEAUTIFUL GAME with some INDISMISSABLE FLAWS. The message of the game was great, the parallels and character motives/psychology were great, but the narrative execution was kinda (very badly, actually) executed. I still cried at some scenes though, like damn, threw my heart back like a Hollaback girl.
> 
> Ok I should stop now. See you next chapter :)


	8. Darkness in His Wake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Reality has become hard to distinguish ever since Akaashi joined the military, but when he climbs up those stairs in a full-on sprint without a single moment of doubt, the tornado of thoughts that had always left unrest in his head has suddenly stopped stirring. For once, his thoughts are lucid— painfully so— because only one thought occupies the abyssal space of his mind._
> 
> _And it leaves reality to have never been as indecipherable as now._

Small crumbles of debris from the ceiling sprinkle onto Akaashi's cheek, along with shouts that are raining down from above him in vehement tones. He can hear the tumultuous noises circling around his head as if he's trapped in a fishbowl, but none are articulated as such. For all Akaashi knows or thinks he knows at the moment, it's quiet and droning inside the walls of his thoughts, even peaceful. But the serenity of that state of mind is stripped away from him all too quickly, and it leaves him raw with the chaos that is truly happening over him.

_Clack!_

The sharp cracking sound the bullet makes is like a stiletto knife plunging into Akaashi's ear. The noise rushes straight to his head as if a jackhammer is pummeling a set of serrated nails into his temples with no end, and the obligated need to cry out coils and burns around the tip of Akaashi's tongue like spice when he bites his bottom lip instead in a subduing manner. The side of his head throbs and swells as if it has been nailed by a sledgehammer at full force, and a thick sensation occupies Akaashi's skull all around as disorientation severs any articulate thought from surfacing in his mind.

"Akaashi, can you hear me?" A soft voice calls out to the soldier, more like a plea. Its smooth tones are leveled into a composed flow, but Akaashi can spot panic in any voice no matter how buried and tucked away it is in someone's throat.

A flashlight shines down in Akaashi's eyes, and he involuntarily squeezes them shut, feeling attacked by the beam. The light does jarring things to the backs of his eyeballs as if there are coal plates being ignited there, and he shifts to have his hands shield his eyes when he suddenly realizes the weight that is burdened on top of him.

_Clack! Clack!_

More distant gunshots fire off above him, maybe the floor above him.

"Akaashi—" mutters the same voice urgently, only to cut itself off when a crackle of clicks ensue just meters away.

_Kekeke...keke._

The pain dwindles and wavers in Akaashi's head as his eyes begin regaining its keen focus. His mind grips a scale in its hands where the two ends tip back and forth between consciousness and unconsciousness as if it knows no balance.

Someone that Akaashi can't quite distinguish sits beside him, leaning back against the plate of debris that Akaashi now cognizes to be anchoring him down against the ground; no wonder he can't quite breathe well. The unknown person holds his pistol up and trained where his flashlight shines a revealing spotlight on a clicker, its fungi-bloomed head twitching from side to side with tremors coursing through its jagged movements.

_Kekeke... keke._

The clicker takes a stilted step forward, then another, and its arms are drawn up like a t-rex as it quakes inhumanly. Akaashi holds an anticipatory breath despite not having much breath to begin with.

"Sugawara!! Is Akaashi okay?"

The shout shatters through the brief pause of voices and gunshots, rippling loud echoes through the room like a crashing riptide. Akaashi cringes as the clicker reacts like a bomb, its clicks becoming rapid and its movements unfolding into a relentless swat.

_KreeEE!_

The clicker screeches and starts reaching out towards the unknown male with hunger, the structure of its fingers reminding Akaashi that these things used to be human.

_Clack!_

A flicker of silver hair acts as a giveaway to Suga's identity when the gunshot flares a flash of light on his ash-blonde locks. The bullet blasts straight into the clicker's face as horridly red blood spews out of the fungi like a geyser. The clicker is stunned for a mere second before rearing back to continue its run.

_Clack!_

This time the bullet traverses into the clicker's throat through a tender spot of skin there. The clicker drops dead as its clicks are now drowned away by its own blood gurgling in its pierced throat.

Akaashi feels the plate of debris be pushed off his chest, and he quickly attempts to gather himself up off the floor. He's stunned onto his knees by the unrelenting throbs knocking left and right in his head, almost falling over if it weren't for his steadying hand on the floor.

A hand goes to grab at Akaashi's shoulder. The hand is soft and caring, yet firm and adamant. "You suffered a pretty bad fall, but you need to pull it together, Akaashi." Suga tells the soldier in a hushed manner. "Or else we can't go anywhere, namely, _out of here_."

Suga's knees and forearms are screaming with blunt pain, having fallen forward into the gaping hole after he felt someone grab his back in an effort to prevent his fall. Though he expresses no complaint as he's doing far better than Akaashi, who had fallen on his side and evidently hit his head on the way down. Suga can see the concussion muddling Akaashi's blue eyes into a cloudy haze when he turns the soldier's face towards him to make sure his gas mask is still intact. With a fall like his, Akaashi is lucky to have his gas mask still in working condition.

"The light..." Akaashi murmurs weakly.

"What?"

Akaashi covers his palm over Suga's flashlight that was beaming on his face before turning away from it with his eyes painfully shut.

The sound of clickers manifest on the floor above them, and Suga looks up at the hole that they had just fallen from. It's now guarded by metal beams that had cataclysmically caved in from the ceiling at the same time the wood floor beneath them had fallen through.

_Clack! Clack!_

Gunshots pop on the floor above, and Suga warily combs his gaze around the darkness that surrounds him and Akaashi in case the noise is luring in any more infected. Nothing but thick curtains of the dark stare back at him, and Suga wavers between allowing relief or anxiety to overtake him upon seeing this.

"Suga!" Daichi's voice hollers down at the hole amidst the hail of gunfire.

" _What?_ " Suga stage whispers harshly up at the ceiling.

"We have to go, we're being swarmed," Daichi informs with worry hesitating his voice. "You're gonna be okay?"

" _I'll be fine, and Akaashi will be fine, so just go_." Suga whispers once again with urgency, knowing that Daichi is hard to convince. " _We'll regroup somehow_."

"Sugawara, please make sure Akaashi is okay." Bokuto's voice now echoes down the ceiling with a murmur of concern. The tone to which Bokuto speaks paints a clear picture of how his expression must look.

"I'm okay, Bokuto-san," Akaashi reassures the soldier himself, though his throat is coated with an uncomfortable rasp that resounds a louder echo than Suga's whisper does. "Just a little knocked."

"Akaashi—" Bokuto starts with a swamp of relief that could probably sear through any darkness from how bright it sounded.

_Clack! Clack!_

"Kageyama! Over there! That door—" Hinata's voice is muffled behind the floorboards.

"We need to go. Like _now_." Kageyama's voice barks insistently at Daichi and Bokuto. "Like Suga-san said, they'll be fine."

Suga can feel the hesitation fuming between all of them, but a few disgruntled noises are followed by acquiescence.

"Stay safe, we'll see you soon." Daichi grimly informs down at the tunnel. Bokuto delivers a similar message before their retreating footsteps tell of their departure as the sound of clickers and gunshots follow them on their heels.

The cacophonic chaos above them peters out into void silence. Bokuto and Daichi's flashlights no longer leer down at Suga and Akaashi, leaving the latter pair to be left to their own sources.

"How are you holding up?" Suga asks as he nudges for Akaashi's rapidly blinking gaze to meet his own. He takes Akaashi's hand that is still cupped over his flashlight to remove it. "I won't shine this in your face."

Akaashi nods as Suga guides his palm off his flashlight and aims the beam down at the soldier's lap.

"How are you? Can you move?" Suga reiterates as he places an assuring hand on the other's shoulder.

The weak nod that Akaashi returns is quite opposite of the answer he is giving Suga. When he speaks, he speaks slow and methodically, the quiver unmistakable in his tone.

"I think I'll be fine." Akaashi grits out before fighting off a cough that starts erupting up his throat. He looks stiff as if he's made of porcelain, and the hand at his side precariously clenches at his uniform.

"You look and sound like you're the furthest from fine."

"Well, I can't be anything other than fine." Akaashi wheezes dismissively. He nudges off Suga's hand to pick himself up off the ground with a totter in his step. "We have to go and— _cough_ — catch up."

Suga pulls at Akaashi's uniform to lightly drag him back down onto the ground. "Take it easy, you look and sound like you have a broken rib," Suga admonishes with a frown. "You keep going, and you'll break yourself even more."

The sound of Akaashi's light chuckle is grave. "You sound like someone I know."

"I bet it's someone who's right all the time." Suga jests with an ever so playful smile.

"He likes to think he is," Akaashi quips, having reluctantly given in to Suga's persuasions to take a rest. "Doesn't mean he always is."

"Well, that's when he and I differ then."

Though Suga cannot see it, he can sense the small smile curving on Akaashi's lips. A slight bloom of victory permeates within Suga at making the soldier smile, especially at a moment as distressing as now. Before, Akaashi wouldn't give a single look so easily at Suga, but it seems he's had a change of heart. Or perhaps it's the concussion that has made Akaashi more viable to amusement. Either way, Suga indulges in the progress.

But much to what Suga can't help but observe, something appears amiss in Akaashi. The way he sits uncomfortably as if he's listening to something unnerving inside himself, the way his stare has become flinty with hyper-vigilance rather than dry with indifference, and the shaky breaths he takes. This increases Suga's rise of concern as Akaashi's fingers now fiddle anxiously in his lap under the beam of Suga's flashlight.

"You okay?" Suga inquires with his brows drawing together in concern. Although it seems unneeded to ask such a thing to someone who is presumably suffering from a broken rib and a concussion, Akaashi senses that the query was meant to be directed in another way.

"More or less," Akaashi states simply with a stiff shrug that aggravates a cough in his throat. Though he can't dismiss the steady speed that his heart is starting to pick up. He nails his attention onto Suga's moonlight-white skin that glows from his flashlight beneath his chin; he fears looking elsewhere will have him staring into the cold dark.

"That could mean a lot of things, and I don't know which one." Suga laughs with an attempt at laying out an ambiance of tranquility between them, with much failure as Akaashi doesn't respond well to the effort. He stays silent without returning an affirming response; his fingers just grow more tense in his lap.

"Can we— go?" Akaashi stutters before clearing his throat uncomfortably. He starts getting up with a clear edge of stress in his movements that already has him up on his feet.

Suga grabs at Akaashi's arm in an effort to halt him, saying, "No, just a few more minutes—"

Akaashi yanks his arm away in a startled manner as he immediately spits with a slight of panic, _"No,_ we need to _go_."

The reaction comes as a surprise to both Suga and Akaashi. The former stares up at the other with a frozen look, as if he's suddenly watching a scared kitten draw its claws out for the first time. The latter, however, hasn't carded away his frigid expression. But he feels it slowly thawing away into something more vulnerable. A quivering lip, his eyes scouting around the stark fucking dark room, and maybe even tears if he would allow himself to cry. But Akaashi remains dry-eyed despite feeling his bones hollow at the screams his mind is sending throughout his skull.

"Okay." Suga finally responds simply, compliantly. He joins Akaashi up on his feet as he feels the weight of the soldier's drilling stare. "Sorry for... grabbing you like that—"

"It's fine." Akaashi cuts off before sighing curtly. The sound is a short catharsis of something sober in his eyes. "Let's just go."

"Okay," Suga complies easily again, and they start making their way through the dark with their flashlights lighting the way.

\--

The footsteps alone are that of a busy day in Morioka. Hurried, running, perhaps even with brief shuffling as someone loses their footing every once and a while before laughing it off to continue down the street. It's an offbeat rhythm to which the colony operated harmoniously on. Everyone was always in a rush, a good kind of rush that spoke of excitement as people would shout with delight when they passed by each other on the street.

Hinata would do anything to get those days back.

The footsteps he hears now are hurried, running, and also with frequent shuffling. Except a panicked rhythm now douses the ambiance of such movements. An ambiance that overdrives the beat of Hinata's heart until he can't breathe a full breath anymore. He's carried by sore feet and worn out thighs as he runs down the wide, marble passageway, with voices that are shouting with anything _but_ delight to hurry on down the windowless corridor. A herd of clickers follow them on their tail like a tsunami drawing dangerously in to the shore, uninterrupted by gunshots upon Daichi's suggestion to conserve ammo.

The dark blur of double doors await at the end upon Hinata's brief discernment of what lies ahead. It's first illuminated by Daichi's flashlight when he reaches them with panic-eager hands that push and pull fiercely on the long handles, but the doors don't allow.

"It won't let through—" Daichi begins to say with his hands just drawing away from the door.

 _Clack!_ Kageyama fires a precise bullet into the handle that is now on the ground after a few clattering bounces. Hinata resists the urge to remark _open sesame_ but fears he will forget to breathe if he does so.

"Could've shot my damn hand off." Daichi mutters before pushing the heavy door open to slip inside.

"Could've." Kageyama murmurs indignantly with emphasis before following Daichi in.

Bokuto pushes Hinata inside as he stumbles inside himself. He turns back to slam the door closed, but a few rabid arms and faces have clawed its way through the small opening with desperate reach. The clickers fight against the force of the door that Bokuto pushes back, and the sheer strength of each clicker is making even Bokuto start stuttering at the knees as he tries to be on par with the infected.

Without any given command, Hinata approaches with his dagger unsheathed and plunges it into the first open spot of a clicker's bloodstained neck. Daichi follows suit, but with his rifle instead as he slams the butt of the firearm onto the clickers' arms and heads. After a few slams and slices, Bokuto is finally able to slam the door on the faces of the clickers shut, and their clicks become nothing but a muffled cry from behind the wooden door.

The sound of wheels barreling against the ground has Daichi and Hinata looking back behind them with alarm.

"Move!" Kageyama says at what could be _the very last possible second_ , but just in time for Daichi, Hinata, and Bokuto to jump away from the large heavy-duty metal cart that Kageyama has shoved against the door, sealing it shut. The heavy thud pounds and shakes the room to its deepest bones like thunder before rattling back out into stillness.

The sound of everyone's stilling fear is descried in their quick and heaving chests when they pant and pace amongst themselves, each breath ridding every bit of panic that had terrorized their adrenaline into full-gear just moments before.

"That was a _big_ yikes— phew!" Bokuto huffs cathartically, his voice shredding away the thick quietness around them. He turns to Hinata with an unseeable but glad grin that bends into the stain of blood on his cheek. "What a quick thinker you are, little guy!"

"Oh you have no idea." Kageyama grunts sarcastically with an air of smugness surrounding his lopsided smile, the blues of his eyes glaring dully through the strobes of the flashlights like sapphire luster.

Hinata is caught between glaring and squabbling with Kageyama, being offended at being referred to as little guy, and beaming at the compliment that Bokuto had just laid upon him. As a result, he doesn't utter any response.

"What's gonna happen to Suga-san and Akaashi-san?" Kageyama swallows thickly as he lowers his arms beside him.

"What's _gonna happen_ is that we will meet with them again." Daichi says determinedly before flickering a stringent gaze over at Bokuto. The latter nearly sputters at such intensity of a stare. "Your friend, does he know where he's going?"

The soldier scratches a finger at the side of his head as he looks off at the ground, his mind appearing to be half conscious of Daichi's query and half contemplating something else.

"Well?" Daichi prods upon receiving nothing but silence.

"He might not know where they're _going_ , but he knows where he's supposed to go." Bokuto finally answers, but there's an undertone of uncertainty in his voice that doesn't go unnoticed by Daichi.

"And you?" Kageyama asks in reference to Bokuto. "You know where we're supposed to go?"

"Of course I know!" Bokuto huffs churlishly, even crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm the one who spotted the way out."

"But, shouldn't we look for Akaashi-san and Suga-san first?" Hinata pipes up, receiving everyone's attention. A certain type of guilt has been poisoning the redhead's conscience ever since they had left Suga and Akaashi down in that hole.

 _"We should—"_ Daichi affirms.

"No, we can just go on ahead." Bokuto interjects firmly, and that earns everyone's quizzical gaze, especially Daichi's. "Akaashi will be able to lead himself and Sugawara up to the balcony. We'll be able to meet them there."

"And if he can't?" Daichi lets the words slip out the seams of his lips all too easily and all too caustically. Hinata nearly winces at the doubt that Daichi has just voiced, and the first cross look appears on Bokuto's features in the slightest of subtleties.

"He can." Bokuto asserts with a single frowning brow. "I believe in my partner because I know he can handle himself. He'll know how to lead them out of there."

"Then why did you sound so uncertain just moments before?" Daichi quips. Hinata stares down at the brunette's hands by his side as they crack each and every individual knuckle with subdued anxiety.

"I get it's one thing to doubt Akaashi's abilities, but Sugawara's?" Bokuto retorts, and Daichi nearly flinches within himself. "Do you not believe that Sugawara will be able to assist and get himself out of there too?"

The end of Daichi's lip twitches, aggravated, but silence seals them shut. He blinks away the offense building in the embers of his eyes before running a single hand down the side of his chiseled jaw, where blood has dressed itself onto his tan skin.

"I worry." Daichi delivers with collective ease in his tone; he can calm down just as fast as he can grow agitated.

"I worry too, Sawamura." Bokuto returns with the same type of voice as his face twists into something that could only convey none other than solemn worry. "Akaashi doesn't deal well with enclosed, cold, and dark places, and the room they fell into spoke of just that."

"Why is that?" Hinata asks, though his mind swirls with all types of possibilities that he knows befits the mind of a soldier very well.

"As by his own words—" Bokuto looks down at the assault rifle slung on his side, taking it into his two hands with a ruefully tight grip, "—it's like having nightmares with his eyes open, to the point he sometimes doesn't know if he's awake or asleep when it's happening."

Everyone startles at that, but none draw a single word from their crestfallen minds. Bokuto seems to prefer it that way, because he continues.

"But I know he can pull himself through anything like he always has," Bokuto raises his eyes from the assault rifle, the gold in his stare now afresh with a glint of hope and something so distinctly pure. "And they have flashlights. So long as there is some light in the room, I think, he should be fine. All I can do is trust in his abilities."

Bokuto then instills a heavy stare at Daichi, his words lingering through the steady hold of his eyes, only for Daichi to look away as a refusal to take further advice from the soldier. Tension only thickens between them at this, and the two younger males oscillate their glances between the two before stepping away to avoid getting caught in the crossfire of their strained stares.

"So what is it going to be?" Daichi asks, his voice aimed down at his feet.

A swift glance around the room is made by Bokuto at the inquiry, absorbing the perfectly squarish shape of the room and its tattered walls that peel with old paint at the edges. The wall to the left is much less of a wall, and more so a window upon further observation. The dark stains that occupy its formerly pristine and burnished surface had made the window appear as a solid wall, and the darkened skies outside weren't much of help either. The room is wiped empty, only embellished by old furniture that looks like it carries its own disease from how torn and rotten away the velvety material is. Though the room is missing one thing that is of key importance.

A way out.

"I'll get back to you on that.." Bokuto trails off as both he and Daichi realize their trapped state. They both shift in place, raking their gazes across every wall in case they had missed an obscure door somewhere but with no avail. Only a nearly-vacant room stares back at them, along with the true misery of how cornered they are.

They're hopelessly trapped in place.

A few meters astray from Daichi and Bokuto where the younger pair had taken themselves away to, Kageyama and Hinata stand oblivious to their current debacle, their flashlights only aimed at each other as they speak amongst themselves.

"Kageyama, you're bleeding." Hinata notes quietly, grazing his thumb across the raven's cheekbone where a splinter had probably lodged itself beneath his skin. Kageyama had been the one to grab onto Suga's back in an effort to prevent his fall, only for Bokuto to detach him from the ashen-blonde as for the collapsing metal beams would have nailed Kageyama at full force if he kept holding on.

Kageyama lets the redhead's finger linger on his cheek for a bit before shooing it away as if it's a fly. "Yeah, and so are you." He tells Hinata, motioning down at the blood splatters on the latter's neck.

Hinata's own hand goes to swipe at the spot Kageyama had pointed at, and he stares down at the fresh red color seeping into the creases of his palm. It looks akin to a bloody stream of rivers flowing across his skin.

"It's not mine." Hinata mumbles mousily, going to wipe it off his palm on the side of his jeans. As he wipes, his fingers end up clenching into the hem of his sweatshirt before gradually lowering his gaze down at the ground with a despondent air in the way he stares at his feet.

"Hey," Kageyama nudges Hinata with a slight push to his shoulder. The latter merely sways but doesn't detach his gaze. "You alright?" The explicit concern hidden in the raven's speech is warm in contrast to his usually cold disposition. It comforts Hinata more than he predicted it ever would, and it feels as relieving as a small match being lit in the cobwebbed dark in his chest, burning away trains of worry for the time being.

Hinata kicks at the floor idly as he raises his face, but his eyes are still off to the side. "Could be better." He answers honestly with a measly attempt at a cheery tone. The eye of his mind resurfaces the thoughts of Morioka he had while they were sprinting down the corridor. The peaceful reminiscence of the colony stays afloat in Hinata's mind, and his heart sinks lower into the pit of his chest.

"I just miss home," mutters Hinata, quiet like a mouse.

He had expected Kageyama to remark something distinctly along the lines of _there is no home_ or _quit talking about home_. But he earns none of that, and instead receives a single hand to his shoulder. Hinata flinches with the expectation of being whammed.

"I miss Natsu." Hinata whimpers upon the first warm contact from the other, who returns a slight crumble of features as he watches the space above Hinata's nose twitch from stubbornly holding back tears. "She's okay, right?"

Kageyama gathers a breath before answering, "She is."

He's about to remove his hand from Hinata's shoulder, but the latter clings onto Kageyama's sleeve. "Don't let go for now." He sniffles quietly.

Kageyama looks about frozen in place, paralyzed by the fact that he doesn't quite know what to do. But he abides by the request with no retort or offering of a cold shoulder. It's almost like his character has become temporarily estranged from himself. The moment of warm silence between the two is short-lived, however, as Bokuto and Daichi approach from the other corner of the room with purpose.

"Okay, here's the deal—" Daichi begins.

"You want the good news or bad news first?" Bokuto cuts off, much to Daichi's disgruntlement.

"Good news?" Hinata snuffs away the dwindle of a breakdown that had been building inside him as he stares up at the soldier. He needs some hopeful news for the time being.

"We found a way out." Bokuto delivers optimistically.

"We're trapped." Daichi delivers at the same time, and Bokuto shoots him a childish glare.

"That's the bad news, Sawamura."

"Yeah, well, I agreed to go to the balcony instead of looking for the others, so I'm at least getting this." Daichi sighs, leaving Bokuto to shrug with agreement.

"We're trapped?" Kageyama parrots sharply.

"We _were_ but now we're not." Bokuto rectifies innocently.

"Because _that_." Daichi turns and motions back at the glass wall that captures a translucent view of the darkened sky. On the furthest right side though, is an open window allowing a cool breeze to pool in from the outside evening air. "Outside that window is a hanging platform that leads to another platform outside another open window."

"Sounds safe." Kageyama deadpans with a sour look dressing his face discontentedly.

"Does it look like we have any options though?" Daichi retorts, motioning around at the empty, directionless room.

Kageyama bites at the inside of his cheek, his mouth twisting in the process. "No, I guess we don't."

"Is it stable?" Hinata asks with a squeamish clench in his gut as everyone starts their trek over to the window.

"Haven't tested it." Bokuto states, a little too enthused.

"Again, we have no other option." Daichi reiterates before being the first to walk over to the open window. He throws a perfunctory look over his shoulder as the outdoor breeze caresses his face. "If it'll help you guys ease up, I'll go first."

Nobody protests against that. They might as well have quipped with _be our guest_ through their silence.

Daichi chuckles at this as he peers over the edge. "Nice to know that I'm cared for." He says with a wry grin as he starts stepping onto the narrow windowsill.

With the museum's high ceilings and colossal structure, a mere two stories could be enough to bust someone's brain open if they were to fall. The drop that Daichi discerns from his view has to be at least fifteen meters, and one misstep will have him meeting his inevitable demise. The platform is more of a rectangular crate enforced by rusted metal railing and (seemingly) solid flooring. It hangs in the air by black, thick-coiled rope from a metal crane-like machine beside the building and is adjacent to an identical platform that leads into another open window. The old cleaning supplies that sit on the flooring leaves open the suggestion that the platform was used for people to wash the windows of the museum.

The crate-like platform is a bit low from the window for Daichi to carefully step onto, so he sucks in an anticipatory breath before jumping down without warning.

The three others squawk and hurry over to the now empty windowsill where a loud metal _clang!_ runs echoes from down below. They all squeeze their heads over the edge, watching as Daichi clings onto either side of the railing with his feet planted firmly on the flooring. The crate sways and knocks into the adjacent crate and sounds wobbly creaks at each pendulous movement it makes.

Daichi audibly curses to himself as his heart speeds at multiple miles a second, amplifying the feeling of the raindrops that he hadn't even realized were falling from the sky. He can hear the blood rushing in his ear's veins, throbbing with anxiety as he takes a cautious step towards the other side of the platform that leads to the other one.

"It's pretty stable, just make sure to make a solid landing." Daichi exhales out through careful breaths as he reaches the opposite railing. "Once I get onto this other one, someone needs to jump onto this one."

No one replies affirmatively, but when Daichi finally hops over the railing to the adjacent platform, he hears someone drop into the one he had just left. It makes the same pounding thud before it bumps into the platform that Daichi had just gotten onto. It interrupts his balance, and Daichi clutches onto the wet railing to keep from falling over. The brunette looks back behind him and sees Kageyama doing the same to the railing at his hands.

"You alright?" Daichi asks.

"Yeah," Kageyama huffs anxiously with caution wracking his body stiff. "Not dead."

Daichi chuckles silently through his nose before sauntering carefully over to the open window where a taut rope hangs over the edge. It appears someone has established a route through here before. After a few experimental tugs, Daichi begins pulling himself up the rope as his feet climb against the wall while doing so. The stone establishment is a bit slippery, but the traction in his boots assist in the climb as he reaches the windowsill with a tight grip fastened on the edge. He hears Kageyama land onto the platform below him before hoisting himself up and through the window. His feet land softly on the now carpeted flooring as he walks deeper into the room, reaching for his pistol tucked behind him when he hears an all too close screech.

All too close, as in, the stalker that the screech came from has already landed a solid swat on Daichi's cheek before he can even react.

Daichi grits out a brief but loud cough from the force, and he feels himself be brutally shoved into a shelf behind him as the screeching is now dangerously close to his ear. He already has hands gripped and fingers entangled around the stalker's blistered neck with resistance, the fingers on his right hand throbbing from being jammed into the shelf while trying to reach for his gun.

The smell is intensely acrid against his face as he feels the stalker's hot breath stroking past his cheeks. Its hands claw and pummel against Daichi's shoulders as the latter veers his gaze away from the stalker's face, seeing only glimpses of red and pink where its features once were. The stalker must be on its way to turning into a clicker, with its cries being caught between a croak and a trill of clicks while still possessing some vague ability to see from the way it had snuck up on Daichi without a single noise.

The most damning quality that Daichi is faced with though, is the stalker's strength that is almost on par with a clicker's. He feels his arms growing weak with overworking strain when he hears Kageyama land in the room—

_Clack!_

—And a bullet shoot so precisely into the stalker's temple that it almost leaves Daichi enamored at the precision. Blood sprays onto Daichi's gas mask in splatters as the force of the stalker's arms wash away into a limp state as it drops to the ground.

Daichi stares down at the stalker's face, its jaw slack and revealing a row of bloodstained enamels that had been too close to sinking down into Daichi's flesh. He pants quietly to himself as he sees Kageyama approach him from the corner of his eye.

"I said—" Daichi begins, wiping the blood off his gas mask to look over at the raven, "—to conserve ammo."

Kageyama's expression immediately splits into a disdainful frown. "Excuse me?"

"That's the second time you've fired a bullet." Daichi states firmly as he looks around the room. Compared to the other room that they had just come from, this one is cluttered with items. Items that had given the stalker plenty of places to sneak and attack.

"But both times were worth it." Kageyama retorts, offended as he steps to meet with Daichi's eyes again. "Especially this one."

Daichi gives back the look that Kageyama had been searching for, but it's straight-faced and stringent. He doesn't reply when Hinata jumps into the room with a bout of worry in his walk.

"I heard a gunshot, what happened—?" Hinata stops in his tracks when he spots the dead stalker that answers his query. "Oh." Then he notices the blood on Daichi's clothes and Kageyama's silent stare that fumes with rigid agitation.

Bokuto joins them from the window not long after, saying, "Is everything alright?"

Daichi turns and walks off towards the closed door on the other side of the room. "Everything's fine." He replies haphazardly as he feels a stare burning holes into his back, but he doesn't allow his disconcerted self to bleed through his gait.

" _You're welcome_." Kageyama sears out bitterly. The tone could be enough to slice through someone painfully, therefore it leaves even Hinata and Bokuto silent as they confusedly watch the scene before them.

Daichi hears them muttering to each other behind him, but he pays no mind as he creaks open the slightly ajar door. Its rippling creak makes him grimace with anticipation as he peeks out the open door to find the space vacant of anybody and any being. It's merely another long corridor with high, arched ceilings, but his eyes focus on nothing other than the one thing they need at the moment.

A staircase, this time made of solid marble that curves up into the next floor.

Daichi turns back and calls out to Bokuto, "You think you know where to go from here?"

Bokuto perks up at Daichi's voice, his spiky hair following such movement like some animal. "I think so. The balcony I saw was on this side of the building anyway."

"Good, cause there's a stairway here."

A smile splits onto Bokuto's lips as he hurries over to Daichi excitedly. He peeks out the door the same as Daichi had done, and his eyes widen happily into golden orbs at the sight of the solid stairway.

"Well then lets go!" The soldier enthuses as he now takes the lead ahead of Daichi, disappearing into the corridor.

Daichi looks back at Hinata and Kageyama, who approach the doorway with an unhurried saunter.

"Come on," Daichi motions towards the door, "move like you mean it. I'll be right behind you guys."

Hinata does as he is told and quickens his walk out the door, and Kageyama does the same, but not without glancing an icy cold glare at Daichi with a burning linger. The raven then hurries on ahead without sparing another moment with his bitter scowl.

Daichi sighs, very much aware of the intent behind the raven's scarily blue eyes. But as much as it had never bothered him before, he berates himself for actually feeling guilty for the ass that is himself, especially after the glare stays stuck at the forefront of his mind.

He follows Kageyama out, and without thinking that it could have ever been possible, he feels the tension between him and the raven grow even thicker.

\--

Akaashi takes about the fifth break so far since he and Suga have walked out of that dark room.

The soldier leans by the wall with desperate search for the relief of his headache, and a persistent ring comes and goes like a festering bug. The wall is cold and provides temporary numbness to the pain at his skull, but it's never quite enough.

A hand touches at Akaashi's shoulder with the most gingerly tough manageable, yet Akaashi still flinches just slightly.

"Jumpy, aren't you?" Suga chuckles mirthlessly and draws his hand away at the reaction. "You can take your time."

"We don't have... time." Akaashi sighs and gathers as much willpower available to detach his head off the cold, relieving wall.

"We do," Suga assures as he peruses his gaze around the narrow vestibule that connects the two separate parts of the museum building. "For now. Behind this door here, according to the directory—" he motions at the set of double glass doors ahead of them that have been covered by a wall of taped newspapers, "—is the west-side building of the museum, and we don't know what's beyond here. We've surprisingly had it easy so far, but it'll be best to soak in the rest right now so we're ready to trek through here."

Akaashi silently nods to take Suga's word into great consideration and leans back against the vestibule wall where no windows are present. As far as both Akaashi and Suga know, they still have not come across a stairwell to lead them upwards; they're still on the first floor that apparently leads semi-underground, which is where the pair have traversed into upon finding a faded directory along the way.

Buzzes of pain mumble around Akaashi's head, and he stares down into the flare of his flashlight with no regard to how much it scalds his eyes. He begins mapping out just how much shit he will have to face when he goes back to the base, and how much he will have to lie straight through his teeth to the general on how he managed to obtain a concussion and a broken rib while he was 'off-duty'. It'll be a fucking headache, but nothing is as much of a headache as the actual headache that Akaashi has now. Perhaps it could rival the level of headache-ery the general is whenever he opens his mouth.

"Sugawara-san," Akaashi calls out of the blue, and Suga lifts his gaze up at the soldier.

Suga clears his throat, "Yeah?"

Maybe it's the concussion muddling Akaashi's usually reserved self into something other than, but he goes along with it anyway. "I think I'm scared of the dark."

He adds the 'I think' part because stating something so directly, like 'I'm scared of the dark', disconcerts himself in ways that he doesn't quite understand. Attaching 'I think' makes it sound like a theory, as opposed to acknowledging it as something that is very much real. And when things are very real, Akaashi discovers that things only start going downhill from the moment he realizes it as such.

Suga's expression is unreadable, but it's partly because Akaashi can't bring himself to look him in the face after stating such a vulnerable fact.

"The dark?" Suga echoes, but it's not in a ridiculing manner. It's quite the opposite actually; it's something tender. "But, during the short time I've known you, I've mostly seen you in the dark."

"Dark places," Akaashi further clarifies in a murmur so quiet, Suga has to strain his ears to hear. "Dark places that are enclosed. Quiet. It makes me feel..."

And that's where Akaashi feels himself pushing it despite having so many words for it in his head. It makes him feel trapped, left to his own mind, his mind being a place he fears the most despite spending most of his time swimming in his own thoughts. It makes him feel uncomfortable and detached from himself, places him in a spot in his subconscience that he would much rather not be in. It makes him feel like his mind is having dreams even when he's awake, it makes him feel like his mind has to fill the quiet with loud memories, it makes him feel—

Akaashi cuts his thoughts short, realizing that he has said none of that aloud and it has, again, happened all in his head.

"Makes you feel—?" Suga prods softly, oblivious to the ramble of Akaashi's inner voice.

"Can we go?" Akaashi exhales shakily as he peels himself off the wall.

A puzzling look fuzzes onto Suga's features. "Wait, but—"

"I'm fine now, and we just need to get through here, yes?" Akaashi musters out his usual, polite tone all the while trying to fend off his dizzying thoughts.

"Yeah, but..." Suga tries to reason, but relents with a conceding sigh and a drop of his arms. "Yeah, okay... we just need to get through here."

"And, Sugawara-san?" Akaashi calls again, making Suga stutter his movements in place. Akaashi looks down at the assault rifle in his hands, the feeling of it having grown less and less heavy each time he picks it up. "A vaccine, are you sure you don't know anything about it?"

The curiosity has been weighing at the back of Akaashi's head since he first heard Suga mention it. It has planted a hopeful seed somewhere deep inside him, a seed that has Akaashi burrowing through his conscience for in order to quickly remove it before it can germinate into something akin to empty hope.

Suga runs his hands down the side of his jacket before gripping it by the hem. His mouth opens before relaxing into a breathy chuckle. "Like I said, Akaashi, it was just a hypothetical." He says with an assuring smile.

"Okay." Akaashi nods quietly, and he turns away before he can begin inquiring further.

The pair approach the glass doors where the newspaper articles taped on the surface block their view into the building. Several are about Outbreak Day with the generous inclusion of pictures where buildings are aflame. Though most articles appear to be pre-outbreak. A particular one catches Akaashi's attention with fresh nostalgia, the words reading _BEACHSIDE RESORT HOMES ON SALE IN OKINAWA FOR THE SEASON!_

A small smile cracks onto Akaashi's lips at something so innocent. He turns on his assault rifle's flashlight in order to get a better view of that article that contains monochrome pictures of the Okinawa beach.

Akaashi has never seen open water, and he wants to someday.

He shakes away the thought the moment Suga opens up the glass door on his side, and they file into the dark expanse of the empty lobby-like room. The ceilings are high as expected, the walls sleek with scratches, and one pan of their flashlights across the room is enough to show them just how large the space is. Parts of the floor above has caved in, leaving dusty, rotten piles of debris on the marble ground below. It smells acutely foul in here, and both males nearly gag at the scent.

But they swallow it back when they hear the painful moans of runners somewhere behind one of the mountainous chunks of debris. Akaashi stalks over behind a half-broken receptionist's desk with his gun's flashlight lowered at the ground so it's out of sight. The flashlight strapped to the right side of his chest allows him to peer over the desk to see Suga settled behind the tall directory stand, and the runner that stands beside a block of debris with only its back visible.

The runner moans to itself with great grief in a low, rumbly human-like voice that causes Suga and Akaashi to internally paralyze for a brief moment.The former sighs out all the hesitation that has permeated in his chest, and he flips out his switchblade before giving Akaashi a silent, knowing look. Akaashi returns the same as he watches Suga quietly walk out from his safe spot and approach the oblivious runner from behind, yanking its head back and slashing the switchblade across its throat in one swipe. The runner chokes and coughs out a muffled cry of shock when Suga then plunges the blade into its chest and slowly guides the limp runner to drop to the ground, leaving it to bleed out to death.

Hearing how much the runner had been moaning and groaning in pain, Suga tells himself that he did the poor guy a favor in killing him. It's the only thing keeping him from being overcome with dirty guilt when he hears the runner writhing and choking on its own blood on the ground.

Suga looks back behind him to spot Akaashi, but the soldier has already left his spot to perform the same sneak and slash technique on another runner ahead of Suga. Once the runner's body hits the ground in a writhing mess, Akaashi straightens up and wipes the blood of his tactical blade on his uniform pants.

They exchange silent nods and carry themselves deeper into the room through the maze-like path around the piles of debris. Noises of stalkers have now reached within earshot as Akaashi settles low behind a long couch while Suga shields himself behind an ornate desk that looks out of place in the spot it's in. What lies ahead is a wide vacant space encircled by lopsided pieces of the building, and the rippling croaks from the stalkers tell of their presence as they wander about the open space with nothing but the echoes of their voices accompanying them.

What also lies ahead past the group of stalkers and pieces of debris is a thick metal door, the labeled plaque _STAIRS_ plastered on its frame.

Suga and Akaashi exchange another look upon simultaneously spotting the sign, and they sneak out of their hiding spots in order to approach their first oblivious stalker from behind. Suga takes to the right side of the open space of stalkers, who walk and saunter mindlessly, while Akaashi takes to the left side of the open space.

The stalker's hair is always wiry-thin from coats of blood every time Akaashi goes to yank at it, and he can always feel the skin splitting and coming undone beneath the slash of his blade as if its flesh is a delicate plate of silk. Then he plunges the blade into its chest where muscles and layers of skin and bone are being pierced when the knife is sheathed into the burrows of the stalker's organs. Blood is felt running down its slashed neck and onto the thick material of Akaashi's uniform as he guides the stalker down to lay it to rest dead.

He continues this, from one stalker to the next. Akaashi gets to the last one on his side, ready to approach with the steady rhythm of predatory murder heavy in his hands. The stalker's back is turned towards him: a perfect opportunity to strike.

Akaashi even has his hand raised, ready to pounce and yank at its head when the flashlight on his chest flickers like a dying flame.

This makes Akaashi freeze, his brain swinging between the option to raise his assault rifle for its flashlight or to remain still and try to revive the light at his chest. But before he has the grace to make a decision, the flashlight flickers back on, and what the eye of Akaashi's mind projects onto what used to be the stalker in front of him makes the soldier's bones grow paralytically cold and stiff.

A small male, his hair long and tied back into a low and messy ponytail. The color of his locks are mixed between a blonde and brown from the numerous usage of what Akaashi namely remembers to be boxed hair dye. The male's skin has paled ghostly white while bordering onto deathly pink hues that make the veins beneath his forehead pop in angry lines, and the uniform he wears is that of the military, but not of a soldier. The jacket is lighter and more fitted, and the red band encircled around his upper left arm bears a big white cross to indicate the presence of a medic.

Akaashi doesn't say it aloud, but his mind screams of the name.

_Kenma. Kozume Kenma._

The figure standing before Akaashi appears grotesquely real despite Kenma's skin glowing like stained glass beneath the flashlight. Kenma slowly turns back to look over his shoulder at Akaashi, his indifferent eyes now emanating an exhausted and sickly look. The seams of his lips quiver as if to say something, but Akaashi instinctively rejects the image and the sounds trying to escape Kenma's lips, blinking rapidly and shaking his head to will it all away.

The raven steps back, his breaths quick and uneven no matter how much he tries to slow them to a steady rhythm. He feels his head spinning with vertigo, and he can't conclude as to whether it's cause of his broken rib, or the sight of his former friend that has his chest tightening like a vice. It seems as if his lungs are drying up from a swamping wave of heat that has gripped beneath the surface of his skin, making every breath he takes down his throat icy cold like the heart of winter.

The world is growing unsteady around Akaashi, and he hears the croaking of the stalker— of Kenma— grow close. Akaashi feels his grasp of reality begin growing slippery in his hands as he doesn't react to the noise, still raptured by the belief that the croaking is not real.

But Kenma's outstretched hand almost convinces Akaashi of the fact that he is very much real.

"Akaashi!!" Suga's voice breaks through Akaashi's sinking thoughts like a bullet to a wall of glass.

_Clack!_

Until an actual bullet crashes through the quiet air and into Kenma's throat before he can lay a hand on Akaashi.

"No!" Akaashi finally lets out a word that grates at his vocals like nails raking down his tongue. He's about to drop down and tend to his now dead friend when his flashlight re-pans onto Kenma, only to find that it was never Kenma at all.

The body laying before him is a mere stalker— a stranger. A face he doesn't recognize as remotely familiar. Reality crash lands back in place around Akaashi, and the feeling is not unlike waking up dazed from a nightmare.

Suga doesn't allow Akaashi to stare too long at the dead stalker, the latter studying its face with no two ends meeting in his head as Suga tugs insistently at the raven's arm. A stir of infected noises are heard approaching from afar outside the lobby, chasing the sound of the bullet that had cracked from Suga's pistol.

"Akaashi, we need to move!" Suga instructs through strained teeth as he continues to pull a nearly unresponsive Akaashi towards the direction of the stairs.

The first nearing sound of a runner entering the lobby brings Akaashi's mind back to the present, and he finally complies to begin running around the blocks of debris where the doors to the stairwell await. The roaring cries of runners are heard pooling into the room in disembodied echoes, but the hallway to the left of the door allows a train of runners to flank Akaashi and Suga the moment they reach the desired door to the stairwell.

_Clack!_

Suga shoots the handle of the door off the moment he realizes that it's locked, and he swings it nearly off its hinges to run into the dark, narrow, and square-ish stairwell that only leads up. Akaashi follows in with runners hot on his tail as they begin climbing up the stairs in an adrenaline-rushed tempo, the sound of pummeling footsteps ricocheting around the enclosed walls. Akaashi mentally counts the number of floors they've climbed.

_1... 2... 3..._

Only three floors and Akaashi already feels his legs burning with a pain that encourages him to move faster. They're about to reach the fourth flight of stairs when a clicker bursts through the fourth-floor door with a piercing screech upon hearing the commotion in the stairway.

Suga is the first to encounter it, and sees that another tail of clickers are rolling in on the heels of the first one. After muttering a few curses, he swaps out his pistol for his rifle, pumping the bolt-action in order to start firing at the incoming mini-herd.

_Clack! Clack! Clack!_

Akaashi stops at the top of the steps, turning back towards the onslaught of runners that are still tailing them. He flips the switch on his assault rifle to full-auto and begins firing away a hail of bullets on the bastards as they each tumble back at the impact. Geysers of blood splat onto the walls, painting the image of a massacre as swashes of red blur out Akaashi's vision like a crimson screen. His firearm spits out bullets that leave ear-splitting echoes in its wake, while Suga continues to fend off the incoming clickers from the fourth-floor doorway.

The trilling roll of bullets cease, and Akaashi reaches beside him to reload his assault rifle upon seeing that clickers are now climbing up the steps, their bloodied teeth bearing out into the air amidst their tumultuous screeches. His hands stumble when the assault rifle's flashlight flickers off and back on like a mere stutter.

But during that split second moment, Akaashi sees a scene flash before his eyes in the dark.

It's a field, a field that fumes with despair as much as it fumes with smoke. The field that holds a cluster of infected, all of which are runners, and all of which have familiar faces. The grass is green with fresh summer hues that greatly oppose the distressed hitch of everyone's breath when they see their friends and comrades muddled by infection on the field before them. Akaashi sees their greying skin and bloodshot eyes that had once been bright with joy just weeks before that day.

He sees Kenma— dressed in his on-field medic uniform, and his hair still tied messily behind his head in a tousle of blonde and brunette colors. Akaashi hears him groaning low and quietly like the runner he has become; even during infection, the young medic manages to remain mellow and calm. He simply looked tired when Akaashi had laid his eyes upon him, but it was the tired and beyond dead look captured in Kenma's eyes that had bored itself a place in Akaashi's mind. His lips were quivering when he spotted Akaashi, as if he was trying to say something.

And that was when the tar of gross, sticky guilt had begun submerging Akaashi's heart into a deep abyss, along with the sick curiosity of what Kenma would have said if he was actually able to form decipherable words.

Perhaps he will be able to hear it finally, having been slammed into the wall by an infected that again, bears Kenma's face.

Akaashi's back slams into the wall behind him as he bites back a howl of pain when his injured rib meets the impact. The butt of his firearm slams into the flashlight on his chest, crushing the bulbs in and rendering it lightless. The assault rifle's flashlight sways as Akaashi resists against the clicker thrashing towards him, the muzzle starting to pierced through its throat from the pressure that Akaashi holds against the tender spot there.

"I'm sorry—" Akaashi begins to confess with a fragile tone being squeezed out his tightened throat. He lowers his trembling gaze as his grasp of reality slips between his fingers like sand, and his mind begins projecting the presence of Kenma onto the clicker that is trying to claw at his face. "—It was supposed to be our squad that was on the field— that day—"

Akaashi's arms give, and he willingly lets go of his rifle under the pressure of his unstable mind. All light washes away from Akaashi's eyes as the clicker gives one victorious cry that spirals a resound down the soldier's ears with proximity. Akaashi feels rough hands seize his shoulders and pull him forwards, while something that can't be anything other than the clicker's teeth are felt sinking into the flesh on the left side of his neck.

Things don't feel real at that moment, and the ephemerality of it is quickly acknowledged when Suga lets out a distressed noise that is enough to restore Akaashi's sense of wit piece by piece.

The clicker's teeth and jaw release its tension on Akaashi's neck when Suga fires his rifle at its back, then its head, and then draws out his pistol to press it against the clicker's neck to fire another bullet straight into the flesh there. Rains and splatters of blood gush out of the singular clicker in scarlet bursts as Akaashi finally shoves the clickers off of himself, the corpse slamming into the wall and laying limp on the ground.

Tense air is heaving out of Akaashi's chest as he stares down at the dead clicker that's illuminated by Suga's flashlight. Its face is unrecognizable once again, not Kenma's, and its teeth are still bearing out in the air with blood cresting the edges of its enamels.

Blood that Akaashi recognizes as his own.

That thought delves terribly low into Akaashi's gut, twisting and turning the organs there with anxiety that starts frazzling his head into a dizzying state. Concussion or not, Akaashi feels like he's gonna pass out or at least fall to his knees.

But there is still more infected running up the stairs, and Akaashi is about to raise a beyond trembling hand up to his neck when Suga tugs that same arm away to pull him towards the stairs.

"I cleared the way, just get to the top!!" Suga exclaims in a panicked cry as he ushers Akaashi ahead from behind.

Reality has become hard to distinguish ever since Akaashi joined the military, but when he climbs up those stairs in a full-on sprint without a single moment of doubt, the tornado of thoughts that had always left unrest in his head has suddenly stopped stirring. For once, his thoughts are lucid— painfully so— because only one thought occupies the abyssal space of his mind.

_I'm bitten._

And it leaves reality to have never been as indecipherable as now.

They reach the top sixth floor, and Suga slams the door to the stairwell closed with his back flush against the metal. He lands a few slaps to Akaashi's shoulder as he looks off to the side with a scouring gaze.

"The cabinets, we need to block with it—" Suga instructs with a tremor in his words. He nods his chin over to the metal file cabinets nearby in reference.

Akaashi instinctually acts on the command, shoving the metal file cabinet by the doorframe over, just in time for Suga to duck away from being nailed by it. The cabinet lands with a rattling clatter to the ground, the noise sending shallow echoes through the granite-walled room. Suga and Akaashi then continue to enforce the blockage with numerous file cabinets and coat racks nearby. Perhaps they had overdone it, as by the time they tear themselves away from the scene, they have stripped the room nearly empty of all its items by placing it all by the door.

All except one item. Akaashi walks over to a full-length mirror laying aslant on the wall, preparing to pick it up and toss it towards the door in a painfully cathartic manner. He pauses when he sees the mirror already half-shattered, with only mosaic pieces of his own reflection staring back at him. He can't refrain from thinking to himself that his half-broken reflection perfectly mirrors how he is inside.

Suga watches from off to the side, not being able to help the tears that start welting up in his eyes. His thoughts race like a rush of wind, agitating the dust of his thoughts into resurfacing to the front of his mind, echoing Akaashi's words as if they are the ghost of someone coming back to haunt him. He remembers Akaashi expressing such fears of infection, and he doesn't put a rein on the flush of guilt that begins to come ashore within him.

What could he have done? What could he have done to help Akaashi? The guy is so young, and the way he stares at himself in the remnants of the mirror is enough to cleave through any diamond-built heart.

Tentative fingers of Akaashi's raise to graze down the bite on his neck: a monstrous row of holes that tell of teeth, all drenched in scarlet red blood as more pours out of the wound when Akaashi runs his palm across the raw skin.

"Akaashi—" Suga begins weakly as he starts walking over to the soldier, "—I'm so sorry- I'm sorry I couldn't do anything—"

Akaashi pulls the gas mask off his face to get a better look at the bite. The spores did seem to have cleared the further they travelled up the building, so Suga does the same to his gas mask.

"This—" Akaashi's voice quakes, placing a hand firmly on the wound as if to cover up its existence, "—wasn't supposed to— happen—"

His voice breaks into a quiet, whimpering sob before biting his bottom lip to silence his cry, but the tears running clear lines down his cheek are not able to masked. Suga stops where he is, his mouth huffing out breaths of disbelief as he watches Akaashi's chest shake with a silent, bubbling sob. The soldier looks over at Suga, his lips slightly parted to show his quivering teeth before squeezing them shut.

"We were— he and I were... so close to getting—" Akaashi's voice hitches up at the end before finally being caught in an audible sob. Fear has been fully loaded and processed in his face as the bridge of his nose creases, and his lips upturn into a crescent frown."I lost my mind— in there—" His back begins to fold and crumble from the verge of a cataclysmic breakdown.

Suga rushes over and catches Akaashi into a hug— it's all he can find himself doing purely on instinct. The older male strokes comforting fingers through Akaashi's midnight locks, feeling the raven shake in his arms and into pieces that he will not be able to pick up later.

"I'm sorry—" Akaashi begins to strain out.

"Don't be sorry, please don't be sorry..." Suga tremulously whispers into Akaashi's ear.

"I'm sorry, Bokuto-san—" Akaashi finally says into Suga's shoulder. "I'm—sorry—"

The walls of Akaashi's mind is torn asunder as it leaves him raw, with only apologies being able to be articulated out his lips. A timer has been set over Akaashi's head like a guillotine, and it's the only thing hovering over his thoughts aside from all the remorse playing vividly in his mind like some movie screen flashing before his eyes.

But thoughts alone have been abandoned, and in its place is a slow tide of fear. Everything from bones to soul have withered like winter flowers within Akaashi, leaving only a nulling dark to sit in its wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Neptune - Sleeping At Last](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cxtsm4jLVjk)
> 
> Please don’t hate me ;-;
> 
> Also I got a new iPad that allows me to type my story on it, and for some reason the copy and paste doesn’t let me transfer the italics in the text and Archive adds double spaces between all my paragraphs all of a sudden?? So I had to manually add and remove all those things, and if i missed any, feel free to let me know or at least understand why it’s like that :3.
> 
> But erm, I’m sorry I did this to Akaashi— the Major Character Death tag is there for a reason....  
> Next chapter is a plot point I’ve been planning since the beginning of Still Human! So I’m really excited to write it but it also hurts my heart a lot... almost cried at 4AM thinking and planning it out, no cap.
> 
> Chapter Nine is already in the making, and make sure to stick around for that ;)


	9. Things He Never Did

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Akaashi?" Bokuto calls futilely as if it was all supposed to be some dream._
> 
> _'I'm here, Bokuto-san' is what he expects to hear immediately after, but there is nothing. It's soundless, with nothing but the wind whistling innocently in the air._

**[A few months earlier, June]**

The first thing Bokuto cognizes when he wakes up is how dark it's getting outside.

The male flinches awake with sleep-slow eyes, and his head chases away the lingering impression of another nightmare. The dreary color of the apartment walls start reflecting the glow of the dusk as Bokuto stares out the window across his couch. Quarantine streets are starting to file out into an empty state, despite curfew not being due for another hour.

Bokuto's shifts aren't usually set for any hours during the dark, albeit the times when Firefly suspicion spikes for a few days and only for a few days as if it's some kind of fad. Those times have become more frequent ever since _the incident_.

_Thunk, thunk, thunk._

The triad of knocks at the apartment door doesn't stir Bokuto from his firm position on the half-comfy, half-musty couch. But when another series of rapping knocks ensue, with more evident aggression, the male drags out a sigh as he hauls himself up for the door.

_Thunk, thunk, thunk._

The apartment is fairly small, so Bokuto reaches the door in no time and swings it open. An internal prayer chants insistently in his head, hoping that it isn't one the colonel's new groupie of privates that have come to deliver the news of Bokuto having been called to work an extra shift for the night. Bokuto is well aware that he doesn't get paid enough in ration cards to walk and patrol about quarantine.

Therefore it comes as a blissful surprise when he sees Akaashi standing before him instead, an oil lamp lighting his stoic face from below.

A wide, genuine smile crests onto Bokuto's lips at record speed. "Akaashi! Fancy seeing you here!"

"Good to see you too, Bokuto-san." Akaashi greets dryly but with a small grin lining his mouth into a dulcet look. He's not dressed in his uniform, instead he's clad in a simple pair of blue jeans and a grey t-shirt.

"I..." Bokuto runs a hand through his wilted locks of hair that have lost its spiky shape from a cold shower. He stares quizzically at Akaashi's pretty face that returns an unflinching stare back. "I wasn't expecting you." He nearly stumbles on his words upon the raven's mystic appearance that the oil lamp has had the grace to paint on him. It's as if Akaashi's paled skin is being swallowed by the glow of the flame.

"Konoha-san said to drop this off to you," Akaashi informs as he holds out a small, brown paper bag that rattles suggestively upon being held.

Bokuto looks down at it, an uncomfortable look flickering at the bag before he takes it in his hands with another rattle.

"Oh, thank you, Akaashi..." Bokuto peters off with a sudden capsize in his enthusiastic tone. He can be read as easily as an open book, therefore the crack in his voice doesn't go unnoticed by the other.

The raven intently watches the way Bokuto stands, the way the latter's eyes don't stray from the bag in his hand. It might be sympathy that Akaashi feels the most for Bokuto at this moment, seeing how vulnerable and small he suddenly appears despite the wide breadth of his shoulders being of great opposition to any adjective akin to the word 'small'.

It's an overt observation that Bokuto is nervous, but that isn't enough reason for Akaashi to refrain from his blunt temperament.

"How long have you been taking the sertraline?" Akaashi asks without a precursory warning to his cut-and-dry voice.

A wince is elicited out of Bokuto from how sharp the words protrude out of Akaashi's tone. When he looks up at the other, he finds his breathtaking blue eyes glimmering sheens of slight pain that is under the guise of pure curiosity.

"You looked inside..." Bokuto murmurs awkwardly as he rubs a hand at the nape of his neck. He subconsciously hides the crinkling bag behind him. "I've been taking it for a while."

A discomfit silence hangs between them, with Akaashi nodding at something contemplative in his gaze at the ground. His fingers twist and fiddle together behind his back as if he is uncertain of something that is weighing at the tip of his tongue.

"How has it been working for you?" Akaashi is finally able to ask, throat taut.

A sober twitch of a smile pulls at the end of Bokuto's mouth as he stares down at Akaashi's lowered gaze. The smile is fond, such as the feeling that blooms achingly warm in the walls of Bokuto's ribs like some greenhouse upon receiving care from Akaashi. This prompts him to pull the door open wider, stepping aside.

"You should come in." Bokuto gestures into the room, and Akaashi blinks at the sudden offer as if he's never been in Bokuto's apartment before. "It's a pretty lazy evening. See? It's even raining!"

Akaashi chuckles amusedly as he decidedly steps into the apartment. "Even though it's June. Summer has just begun."

"You can't expect anything regular from Mother Nature!" Bokuto crows cheerily, closing the door behind Akaashi.

The living room, upon Akaashi's observation, bears no unusual appearance. Its grey walls and invasive number of bright candles are still present— as always. Bokuto even proceeds to light a few more candles by the door as Akaashi decides to settle himself by the bare kitchen counter, leaning on it by the hip. His watchful eyes observe Bokuto have a perfunctory battle with one of the candle flames, accidentally burning the tip of his finger on it as he quietly curses to himself— to the candle, so to speak.

The small sound of a chuckle huffs through Akaashi's amused grin from the kitchen. Citrine eyes respond to the noise as if a chorus has just sounded, and they shoot over to look at Akaashi's flame-glowing figure that is a mosaic of shadows mapping across his skin.

Their eyes meet, and the imaginary string between their connected stares grow tight as neither of them break away from it.

"Is there something on my face?" Bokuto asks sheepishly upon finding Akaashi's stare still nailed hard on him. Moving a muscle feels illegal at this point, so Bokuto decides to remain stationed by the dining table.

Akaashi doesn't waver or startle, his eyes now taking on a subtle but coy look. "Nothing at all, Bokuto-san." He delivers with the same manner of his stare, and his small smirk completes the package of such a discreetly alluring ambiance.

Heat begins warming on Bokuto's cheeks, and he clears his throat to mask the fluster that starts painting his vision into a slight haze.

It's quite amusing how much less stringent Akaashi is when he isn't in uniform, how he has the capability— _the audacity_ (though Bokuto has no reigning protest)— to even flirt in the subtlest of ways just for the sole purpose to catch someone off guard. The question as to whether Akaashi is aware of what he does has breezed across Bokuto's thoughts on more than one occasion, but he has arrived at the conclusion that Akaashi _is_ aware, since that part of him never surfaces whenever he's in uniform.

Because when Akaashi is in uniform, he is a soldier— someone who has to treat guns and death as if they are held atop a delicate plate; they're fragile subjects that require the most serious of attitudes when on duty. But when Akaashi isn't in uniform, he is free from the constricting work of a soldier; he is free to be what he really is— a nineteen-year-old.

A quiet, sudden sigh from Akaashi agitates the flickering candlelight nearby. The shadows around him dance and quaver from the breath, and it holds enough presence for Bokuto to tend his gaze towards the raven once again.

"What's wrong?" Bokuto asks with a concerned pout as he brings himself to the counter across Akaashi.

Surprise slightly widens the eyes on Akaashi's face, but he only shrugs and rubs his left arm up and down as if he's cold. "I don't know. It just happens."

As vague as it sounded, Bokuto nods and understands with full clarity— he's had the same kind of moment many times where sighs seem unwarranted and without reason when they happen. Perhaps it's because they've just gotten so used to melancholy that it has become a part of them, therefore the sighs feel as if they have come from no other place but the abyssal parts of their own selves.

"You know what you need?" Bokuto grins out with all impossibly white teeth visible.

That look alone can be a remedy to all of Akaashi's problems, and the raven feels his soul smile at that realization.

Akaashi hums with muted happiness as he turns and leans his arms on the counter. "Please do tell, Bokuto-san." Except he already has an idea as to what exactly Bokuto is going to respond with.

"You need some booze."

 _Bingo_. Akaashi chirps internally.

"I already had some." Akaashi chuckles. "But I'm always happy to have more."

That makes the smile on Bokuto's face split even wider, if possible. He walks over to the cooler that holds a nearly bare stock of food and drinks, pulling out a bottle and a can that has suds dripping by its edges.

"I know you like the taste of scotch and ginger ale—"

"Ginger scotch." Akaashi nods with a crescent smile. "Yes, I do."

"—so, I was able to ration for these." Bokuto says as he places the half-full bottle of scotch, can of ginger ale, and a single lime on the sleek counter beside the raven. Then he walks over to the cupboard to grab a small glass while Akaashi takes the lime in his hand to inspect it.

"A lime too?" Akaashi squints at the fruit with scrutiny, sounding half surprised and half impressed before setting it back down. "Limes are really difficult to get."

"Yeah, well—" Bokuto places the glass cup on the counter with a small clink! "—I heard from Yaku that lime with scotch _'adds a bit of sumthin'_."

Silent amusement splays in the form of a smirk on Akaashi's face as he starts pouring a mixture of the scotch and ginger ale into his glass. "Sounds like Yaku-san. Did he also finish with insisting that he is right?"

"How else would he have finished?" Bokuto emits a toothy laugh that makes the candles' flames nearby quaver again. "But word from Yaku is the word of truth."

Akaashi clicks his tongue with a wry roll of his eyes. " _Oh please_ , Bokuto-san."

"I'm just saying~ he's the one who has that invasive and illegally obtained collection of limes." Bokuto says melodically as he takes a knife from the knife block and starts slicing at the green fruit.

"More invasive than your collection of candles?"

"Hey, I do this—" Bokuto waves the knife around at the ritualistic sight of candles before smiling goofily, "—fo' you, Akaashi."

"How endearing." Akaashi delivers with the driest deadpan to date. Needless to say, it's for the ages. "But when I hear that this checkpoint is up in flames, you should be fully aware of where I'm putting my bets."

Bokuto purses his lips childishly as he makes another clean slice at the lime. "You just don't have my back, Akaashi..."

"I have your back, Bokuto-san," Akaashi says in earnest before his smile turns as wicked as his indifferent features will allow. "Only when it's not up in flames. Then I won't have much to work with, won't I?"

Bokuto squeezes a slice of lime into Akaashi's drink before lodging it into the rim of the glass pointedly. "So witty when we're not on our shifts. It's unfair." Bokuto huffs with mock offense. Despite his hair already wilted around his head, they still appear to wither with defeat. "Maybe the military will stop doubting you so much if you gave them a piece of your mind. You’re always so quiet and serious during your shifts."

"I think I'll be fine, Bokuto-san." Akaashi dismisses with a cavalier shrug of his shoulders. He takes the glass drink in his hand and swirls the liquid in a slight whirlpool. "I think I'll take the lime with scotch concoction to the test now."

Rapt interest rockets through Bokuto's gaze, discarding any residue of defeat from his expression.

"Well, take a sip!" Bokuto urges as he relaxes his weight against his hands on the counter. He stands close next to Akaashi, his gaze delving into the dark irises of his eyes from beside him.

A playful spirit glows dimly in Akaashi's expression at Bokuto's very evident interest. Raising the drink in his hand, Akaashi takes a small sip. The amount is not a lot, but just enough for Akaashi to taste around his lips for the flavor before giving a reticent nod of approval.

"Good? Good, right?" Bokuto asks with an eager jump in his whole being.

"Yes, it's pretty good." Akaashi gives in with small joy cresting in his eyes. He takes another sip before offering the glass to Bokuto. "Why don't you try?"

Consideration to accept the offer is followed by hesitation in Bokuto's half-reaching hand. He tweaks his head to the side awkwardly in order to resist and slides his awkward hand back up the side of his neck.

Finally, Bokuto shakes his head. "No, it's okay." He declines and traverses his hands down the sides of his black cargo pants.

Akaashi blinks with questionable silence, quick wits weaving a gradual sense of clarity in his head. "It's cause of the meds, right?" He murmurs, taking another sip of the alcohol.

Though it looks as if Bokuto doesn't want to answer, he does, for Akaashi's sake. "Yeah... I took some from my last batch a few hours ago."

Steady observation is taken of Akaashi's face with Bokuto searching for any tell-tale sign of— anything, really. Yet Akaashi bears an aloof expression as he watches his hand place the glass down in the shadow of a cherry-bomb red candle. His face doesn't give way to anything of a distinct nature or emotion— it has been wiped clean once again.

"You didn't answer my question earlier." Akaashi avers. "About how it's going for you."

A mere shrug is what Bokuto only responds with at first, and he pockets his hands to lean back against the kitchen counter right beside Akaashi. Uncertainty clouds the male's expression as his mouth twists from side to side from biting the inside of his cheek.

"Are you mad?" Bokuto asks softly with a wince. His eyes are trained down at the ground as if he is expecting to be berated of some sort.

"Mad?" Akaashi chuckles with an amused air rather than a condescending one. "Bokuto-san, that's a silly question."

"Well, because I didn't tell you, I thought you would be."

Taking pills in the military is an unspoken subject that everyone would much rather keep to themselves. Mental health is a touchy subject within the force where commanders and generals feign some of their deepest expressions of empathy towards. Being transparent to the military about taking pills and having a mental health decline will be encountered with care and a treatment of delicacy— perhaps even easier shifts, at first.

But ever since the outbreak, the population has waned to low numbers, and the need for the strongest of individuals both physically and mentally have peaked in order to be of feat against the infected and the Fireflies. Therefore when it comes to being placed in the battlefield, the strongest are salvaged for last, and the weakest are inevitably treated as nothing but frontline fodder.

As a result, soldiers prefer to keep their sleepless nights and anxiety thrumming thoughts to themselves in fear of being deemed weak— it's simply another way for them to survive. And knowing these unspoken laws of being a soldier, Akaashi is fully understanding of why Bokuto has kept his mouth shut the entire time despite his inherently boisterous nature.

"You're not obligated to tell me anything." Akaashi assures down at the ground after a long moment of silence. "Besides, everyone in the force has been getting pill'd up recently, even Kuroo-san since the start of last year. Though I think he has an outside dealer, whether he wants to admit it or not."

"Outside dealer?" Bokuto parrots, perking his gaze over at the side of Akaashi's face.

Akaashi nods, "Kuroo-san takes diazepam— I've seen him take it when he thinks I'm not looking. But that medication is a contraband in quarantine. It's a perfect concoction for suicide— take it with some alcohol and someone will be through. Therefore the pharmacy doesn't provide the medication. Which could only mean..."

"Isn't that how the commander died a few months ago?" Bokuto asks. "Diazepam and rum?"

A grim twist of Akaashi's lips upturn into a thoughtful frown as he slowly nods with affirmation.

"But... people think he was poisoned, though. Especially since this QZ suffered that... horrible inside attack afterwards." Akaashi states with a shudder in his throat, his blue eyes leering over at Bokuto with thick, suggestive intensity. "It'd be pretty easy too. Just crush up the pills and sift it into the commander's evening rum before bed, and he's dead by morning."

Which is exactly how the commander was found: dead in his bed by morning, seemingly asleep.

Though Akaashi holds his gaze at Bokuto, as if his silence should be enough to suggest the idea he is speaking through looks alone. It takes a hot second for Bokuto to think of the reason behind the stare, but a small candlelight of realization slowly grows in his face.

"You don't think..." Bokuto rocks back, shocked. "You don't think Kuroo poisoned him..."

Instead of denial that Bokuto was hoping to receive, he gets a mere haphazard shrug from Akaashi.

"Very possible. Unless the commander had his own illegal stash of the medication, or another soldier had smuggled some in, it could be very possible that Kuroo-san—" Akaashi cuts himself short with the uncomfortable breath he shudders out at the word, _assassinated_ and _betrayed_. "But, I don't think it was Kuroo-san. And I don't believe that Kuroo-san turned on the force for some— _Firefly_."

That name carries heavy spite now, posing as a reference that has replaced the proper name to someone they once knew. Someone who had infiltrated himself as a FEDRA medic before revealing himself to have been a Firefly mole, along with several others.

Following on the heels of the commander's apparent 'suicide' a few months prior, the military base was bombed under the ministrations of a long-term Firefly operation to get under the military's skin and burst from below the FEDRA's own feet. The militia group had sent in Firefly spies to worm their way through the system, to befriend and betray the members of the FEDRA in order to break the organization directly from within.

But the Firefly operation had proved to be a failure, as a whole battalion of Firefly soldiers was wiped out in under an hour by the military. One thing was of great certainty: the Fireflies were severely underprepared, and all those months of being a parasite ended up being in vain.

Despite the FEDRA taking home victory, the operation has left scars within the FEDRA's body of soldiers, trust is even more hesitant to be given, and it's all due to _the_ _incident_ , as everyone refers to it like it's some taboo.

It's also far easier to refer to it vaguely, when to some, it's a mere reminder of the day when some of their new friends were uncovered to be nothing more than a traitor. And that was the case for Bokuto, Kuroo, and Akaashi.

"But Kuroo didn't do that." Bokuto shakes his head, quick and assertive. "He didn't, because he's still here, remember? He's still in the FEDRA, so it wasn't him."

"If only the rest of the FEDRA would fully believe it. Everyone knows he was intimate with that star-of-the-show Firefly traitor." Akaashi sighs.

Bokuto sucks in a harsh breath at the reminiscence of that one particular traitor— the traitor that he, Akaashi, and Kuroo have agreed to never speak the name of again. His identity as a traitor had caused the trio to be faced with an entire ordeal with the FEDRA, being relentlessly grilled for answers as to whether they were also involved or knew about the operation due to their close friendship with him. But they were eventually let loose from the vices of the FEDRA higher-ups, and it had come as a surprise that they weren't executed instead just for safe measures.

"Do you think... that he ever thought of us as his friends too?" Bokuto asks hesitantly, watching carefully for Akaashi's reactions. "At any point?"

Absolute denial is the very first response Akaashi wants to give— he doesn't want to give himself the chance to be fooled by the whole act that the traitor had put on. Not another _second_ after having bought into it for months on end.

"I don't know." Akaashi shrugs with a struggle in his words. "I'm not sure."

"He seemed so legit." Bokuto murmurs crestfallenly at the wall across from him. "He and Kuroo seemed so legit together. He was even the one who helped Kuroo through everything the night we lost Kenma."

Another spike drives straight through the tenderest spots of Akaashi's heart at the name. He stares into the candlelight with a dull stare despite the poison of his memories coming afloat, all of which containing vivid images of Kozume Kenma. He can almost smell the smoke from that day if he spaced out hard enough.

The lime on the glass of ginger scotch is starting to soften, and Akaashi plucks it off the rim to take another drink of the alcohol— but his thoughts have washed away the taste of it, leaving it unsavory.

Still, Akaashi tastes around his lips for the flavor, and Bokuto watches from aside with more focus on the way Akaashi's stare at the lower cabinets has grown steely like diamonds.

"I'm thinking about starting sertraline." Akaashi informs suddenly, and Bokuto's trance splits into awareness at the statement.

"O-oh. Are you—"

"I'm okay, I just—" Akaashi feels himself about to sigh, but stops himself short, "—see things. I can't sleep, I can't really think. I just need a little something to help."

Bokuto shyly kicks down at Akaashi's feet with a soft gesture, his lips pursed. "You said that last time about your nightmares. So how is it any different now?"

Nothing really makes Akaashi ask Bokuto to stop swinging light, gentle kicks at his ankles as if the latter is some kid, partly because he likes the small bits of contact. Maybe affection is all Akaashi needs right now.

"I don't just have nightmares when I sleep— anymore." Akaashi mutters on the brink of a whisper.

Concern begins drenching Bokuto's golden eyes when they shoot up to look at the raven, then curiosity has him cocking his head to the side.

"What do you mean? Since when?"

Akaashi only shakes his head, silent and something amiss in the way he shudders to himself. He's so close next to Bokuto that the latter can almost feel the shudder radiating off of his body.

"What do you mean?" Bokuto reiterates with a somber pout as he nudges a gentle fist at Akaashi's arm.

Akaashi merely budges as he contemplates for the right words. "It's like having nightmares with my eyes open. It's happened so much that I don't know if I'm asleep or not when they... appear." He sighs through his nose, and fiddles his hands over the glass of ginger scotch in front of him. "I keep seeing Kenma."

"Akaashi—" Bokuto begins comforting, the action instinctual, but Akaashi is immediate in deflecting it.

"Bokuto-san, _our_ squad was supposed to be with him that day." Akaashi removes himself from the counter to turn to Bokuto, the glass shaking in his hand.

Bokuto's gait withers back, and his expression falters. "Yeah, I know..."

The desire to pace addles Akaashi's thoughts, his feet even buzzing, but he remains in place to shake his head down at the ground.

"We were supposed to be with him on that field, right?" Akaashi questions with no true reason behind why he is stating it in such a clarifying way. "We were supposed to stay with Kenma and his squad, but— what happened—??"

Akaashi is well aware of what happened, but his breathing has come to pick up at a speed that ices his throat cold. Their squad was originally with Kenma's, until they willingly swapped out with a different squad to tend to another quadrant of the unrecovered city directly west of Tokyo.

Though the city was never recovered as it was just a breeding ground of infected. The military then deemed it to be a lost cause; quarantine could never be established there. And by the time they returned after a few days to relieve Kenma's squad of their positions, they found that they were encountered with nothing but infected comrades wandering idly about the field.

That squad had been swarmed a few days prior— that much was evident. And instead of the other remaining squads taking the now infected squads out of their misery, they were forced to leave all their comrades behind in order to 'prevent more casualties'.

They watched over their shoulders as they left all their comrades— friends— as nothing but sauntering infected.

 _If only something could turn them back_. That thought alone has been bearing the face of Akaashi's nightmares when he watches flashbacks blind his tenuous hold on reality.

The glass between Akaashi's clammy palms slips away from his grasp, and it's due to Bokuto taking it upon seeing the growing tremble in the raven's hands. A feeling of emptiness clings to Akaashi's skin where the glass used to be, but that feeling is warded off by warm hands— calloused at every tip of skin where a gun usually sits all day.

Bokuto tightens his grip at Akaashi's rough but sleight hands, as if he has always meant to hold something so precious all along. Although Akaashi's grasp remains precarious, he feels the tremor beneath his skin still into a calm state that remedies his thoughts with a sense of serenity. All insecurity within Akaashi is quelled by the full focus of Bokuto golden eyes that glow like twin suns.

"Hey, Akaashi," Bokuto calls in a small, innocent sing-song of a voice. Despite possessing a subdued but blithe look on his face, one lingering look at his expression lets Akaashi see the care that is fully present behind the windows of the other's eyes.

"Yes, Bokuto-san?" Akaashi exhales between them.

He feels Bokuto tighten his grip once more. "Do you wanna know how I get through the day?" Bokuto asks with a wide split of his usual grin.

 _So cheerful and positive_ , Akaashi thinks, and he's not disappointed by the sight of Bokuto's characteristic glint in his eyes.

"Yes, I do." Akaashi barely nods, but his inner self is wholehearted with that answer.

"I think happy thoughts," Bokuto answers simply as the ends of his eyes crinkle from an endearing smile that frames his sun-golden face.

Akaashi chuckles, "If only it were that easy, Bokuto-san."

The ends of Bokuto's lips twitch from biting the inside of his cheek again when he gazes at Akaashi. _It's cute_ , Akaashi finds thinking to himself.

"No, err.." Bokuto stammers. "You know, Akaashi..."

"Yes, Bokuto-san?"

"What makes you happy? What gives you... hope?"

 _Hope is paralyzing_. Akaashi feels himself internally shudder at the thought. Yet it's so easy to get slipped away in it.

Giving it a shot, Akaashi decides to abide by the query. "The rain. I like the rain," he states as the pitter-patter of raindrops dew the windows from outside. "It means the season is going through change, and I guess that gives me the hope of life being in motion."

"Ooh, I like the rain too!" Bokuto exclaims, jumping briefly before quickly stilling himself upon remembering that Akaashi's hands are still in his. "Hey, Akaashi, why not we take turns saying what makes us happy? Gives us hope?"

Despite Akaashi's strong sentiment against _hope_ , he can't find it within himself to deny the sparkle dazzling in Bokuto's eagerly staring eyes.

"Sure, why not?" Akaashi says tenderly with a small smile. "Why don't you go again?"

"Hmm... gives me hope.." Bokuto contemplates to himself as if he's shelving through the many collection of hopes he has stored in his mind. Akaashi could say that he's jealous of that fact.

Watching has always been a prominent trait in Akaashi's character, so he watches Bokuto's eyelashes flutter down at the ground as he thinks. He watches Bokuto slowly shuffle closer to Akaashi as if he's trying to share heat with him, and he watches the way his fingers tap and fiddle against Akaashi's now warm hands as if he's playing the keys of a piano. Each feeling is electric, and watching has turned to feeling when he feels Bokuto's warm breath reach his face when he looks back up at the raven.

"Seeing children play ball on the streets." Bokuto answers. "Sometimes I want to join them, let them feel hope too. But they get scared if I come too close, so I'm okay with watching from afar."

Akaashi swallows a thick feeling down his throat— it's reality.

"That's very wholesome of you, Bokuto-san."

Bokuto laughs, a light rumble that rushes quickly to Akaashi's heart from how close he is.

"Your turn, Akaashi." Bokuto urges.

The difficulty to come up with an answer sinks deeply within Akaashi like talons digging through the flesh of his chest. He's never realized how hopeless he is.

"Thinking of the ocean," Akaashi tells the other as he thumbs at the calloused skin of Bokuto's hand, stroking idly as he stares down at the action. "I've never seen it. But I want to someday, or rather, sometime in life."

"Would you want to live by the ocean?"

Akaashi chuckles at the sudden inquiry. "It's your turn, Bokuto-san."

"No, no, I wanna hear more about your happy thoughts." Bokuto shakes his head with a dizzying smile. "Would you wanna live in a beach house? You know, like the ones by those old resorts?"

"A beach house..." Akaashi murmurs as an echo. "Huh, yes, that would be quite nice."

"Ahhh, that would so _sick_!" Bokuto enthuses as he lightly swings his and Akaashi's connected hands side to side. "Waking up and seeing nothing but blue outside the window."

Nothing but a melancholic smile stretches on Akaashi's lips at the sight of Bokuto growing eager of something that Akaashi has brought up. Melancholic, because Akaashi knows to himself that despite all curiosity, he might never be destined to see the ocean someday.

Oceans have been nothing but faded post cards and monochrome papers to Akaashi. When he reads books that take place by the ocean, he wonders if the way they describe the waves and tides are synonymous to the actual feeling of the open water. All he can do is imagine, but never can he see for himself.

"Would _you_ want to live in a beach house, Bokuto-san?" Akaashi can't help but ask when he sees the glimmer in Bokuto's eyes never diminish at the topic.

"To be very honest, Akaashi," Bokuto sighs, mirthless despite his smile. "Any place from here would be a better place to live in."

"That's very debatable, but I understand what you mean by that." Akaashi nods.

Would Akaashi rather live within walls, away from the infected but with angry reigns of oppression looming over him? Or would he rather live outside the walls as open prey for the infected, but with freedom springing free every which way he turns? He can't quite choose.

"If you could go live in a beach house," Bokuto asks with a mumble petering his voice into an almost indecipherable volume. "How would you like to live?"

Every fiber of Akaashi's knowing head tries to refrain from fantasizing about something so hopeful, in fear of getting swept up in the dust of empty hope. Though he answers Bokuto nonetheless because somehow, he feels like any response he may give will keep him safe from the paralytic effects of said hope.

"Could you be a tad more specific, Bokuto-san?" Akaashi asks with a blank face, save for the one brow he has lifted.

"Like..." Bokuto hums, fidgety— more than he was before. "Would you want to live there alone?"

 _Alone_. The state of being alone is just as paralytic to Akaashi. As much as he values his solitude, he prefers having an option to be alone or to be with company. And especially with this type of world, being completely alone might as well be equally as cursing as death. If Akaashi is ever to be blessed with the choice to choose whose company he will be able to be stuck with, he knows only a select few he would choose from.

"I like being alone," Akaashi hums, the sound reflecting off the surfaces of Bokuto's cheeks. The latter stares back with wide eyes, giving no reaction other than this full, enthralled attention that tends to the steel blue of the raven's thoughtful stare.

A finger traces from the hinge of Bokuto's jaw— Akaashi's finger— and slips down the sharp shape till it reaches Bokuto's chin. The action is magnetic, but it feels appropriate for Akaashi to impose such an interaction when his mind is methodically piecing together a befitting answer.

While for Bokuto, the slide of Akaashi's finger leaves a trail of sparks flying beneath his veins, and he feels the finger on his chin add pressure, tipping his head down just slightly to better match the level of Akaashi's lips. Thin, but just enough with the softest appearance manageable against the glow of flickering flames that watch from beside them.

"But, I don't think I'd mind any company." Akaashi whispers, surprisingly without any allure, yet it has Bokuto's heart pounding like drums as it sends echoes through the heat of his bloodstream.

Bokuto gulps, wondering how the mood has quickly changed. "Y-You wouldn't?" He inquires before unknowingly wetting his lips with one quick swipe of his tongue.

Shaking his head, Akaashi chuckles despite his finger trembling at Bokuto's chin. Nervous, but solely from the fact that Bokuto's attention has now become rapt at Akaashi's lips.

"It would be nice to wake up next to someone." Akaashi shrugs, putting on the guise of a nonchalant attitude even though he can practically hear the stare of Bokuto's very telling eyes. "Waking up, seeing the blue of the beach outside the window in the morning."

"Uh huh..." Bokuto nods, his normally eager attitude having mellowed down to a soft murmur that is his attentive part of his personality. He appears so very captured by the low sound of Akaashi's voice when he speaks.

"And when it turns dark, there'll be nothing but an obscene amount of candles lighted all around the house even if there are electric lamps and flashlights on hand."

Bokuto feels oddly targeted, and he jokes, "Pfff, who would do _that_?"

"Oh I know someone." Akaashi _winks_.

The urge to scream is so adamantly shoved away within Bokuto that all he can manage is a sheepish laugh as a response.

"And when I go to sleep, I don't have to be scared of nightmares." Akaashi continues, his hand now trailing down Bokuto's arm to leave a warm spike in its wake. "And when I wake up, I can be relieved to see the same face each time. And each time, that person would smile the same way he smiles every day in order to maintain his firm grip on hopeful things to come."

The wander of Akaashi's eyes down Bokuto's face is harshly tantalizing. The latter's fingertips burn with blunt, directionless curiosity at Akaashi's one hand as he feels Akaashi's quiet sigh sweep down his face, neck, and possibly his whole body.

A dry mouth almost impairs Bokuto's ability to speak. "I'm curious as to who you would want as company, Akaashi." His voice is quiet and possesses an almost guileless nature.

Akaashi can feel the edge in Bokuto's patience at the query. "There's only one person who would fit the candle thing." He quips.

"Who?" Bokuto thoughtlessly asks, too busy noticing the naturally slight tint of the shorter male's lips.

The small, breathy laugh from Akaashi is the most ethereal thing Bokuto has ever been blessed to hear.

"Connect the dots, Bokuto-san." Akaashi sighs, his smile glowing with something so different than before as if they're beginning to shed an old part of himself to reveal a rare, brighter coat of his being.

Akaashi isn't certain as to why or how he has gotten the ambiance to shift, but he was damn successful. It comes down at full force over the pair when Bokuto leans in to get a feeling of Akaashi's impeccably soft lips against his own.

Having been on the very edge of his patience, Bokuto's heart and body align all at once when he encases his hands around the dips of Akaashi's waist to pull him close. Akaashi hitches a breath in his throat as he feels the roughness of Bokuto's lips slide and kiss at his own, the slightly chapped state igniting a desirable sensation against the wanton movements of his mouth. His hands find purchase on the wide breadth of Bokuto's shoulders, sliding and feeling him out while he sighs and gasps under Bokuto's roaming touch.

Sharp traces of fire blaze on their lips at every pressing kiss, every languid lick, and every dripping sigh that is pulled from the seams of the pair's connected lips. They sway into each other's space, Bokuto even landing a single hand on the counter beside them to obtain balance when Akaashi entangles his fingers in the other's soft hair, pulling him in to deepen the push of his tongue that scrapes fondly across Bokuto's teeth.

Pleasured hums sound from Akaashi's usually quiet mouth, and Bokuto drinks it up like honey as he feels the tension that always wracks the raven's body begin to liquify in his hands. Akaashi is flush against Bokuto as they trade breaths, but the ever so eager Bokuto begins straying away from the kiss-red swell of Akaashi's lips, stopping completely and leaving an echoing buzz to occupy Akaashi’s now untouched skin. Akaashi doesn't complain, his eyes hazy from the moment as Bokuto simply rests his head on the other's shoulder.

"Akaashi, I didn't know..." Bokuto mumbles into Akaashi's neck where his voice vibrates across the kiss-marked skin.

"Didn't know what?" Akaashi clarifies. Now his hand is the one to be planted on the counter beside them.

"That you wanted to kiss me that bad."

Akaashi stops himself from laughing, smirking instead. "Making me sound desperate here, Bokuto-san," he says.

Bokuto lifts his head to level his gaze with Akaashi's, and an obvious blush as overtaken the color of his cheeks. " _I_ thought you were desperate. You even pulled my hair."

"Yes... I did." Akaashi mumbles haphazardly as he runs his fingers through the front of Bokuto's dual-colored hair. "It looked really soft, so."

Bokuto makes a toothless smile as he closes his eyes with a hum, melting under the gentle strokes of Akaashi's fingers in his hair. The sight is adorable, like a cat being pet on the head— except Bokuto resembles more of an owl with such big, golden eyes.

"Akaashi..." Bokuto takes Akaashi's hand that is in his hair and kisses it gently at the knuckle. "We should leave together."

Disconcerted tension slightly returns to Akaashi's shoulders at the proposition.

"I don't quite follow, Bokuto-san." Akaashi slightly distresses his brow.

Looking down at their joined hands, Bokuto bears an articulating gaze. "Leave here. Quarantine."

A startle jolts through Akaashi's inner self, but he remains still on the outside except for his hands that slowly pull themselves from Bokuto's.

"Bokuto-san, that is not possible." Akaashi shakes his head with denial.

"No, it is, Akaashi." Bokuto urges, reaching for Akaashi's hands again for him to capture only one. "And we _can_."

"You're not thinking this through, Bokuto-san, we can't just _leave_ —"

"But isn't that what you want?" Bokuto counters, a plea now dousing his eyes into round shapes.

No words pass between Akaashi's slightly agape mouth, because yes, that is exactly what he wants. To leave.

"I-It's not that simple. We have so many factors to consider if we leave. Such as rations, firearms, time and place, a _plan_." Akaashi shivers ironically from a heat that has started busying a headache at his temples.

"Then we make a plan." Bokuto states simply. Too simply.

"If making a plan was so easy then everyone would've done it already." Akaashi avers adamantly.

"But—" Bokuto stutters as he swipes a nervous hand through the front of his hair, "—but I think I _do_ have a plan."

A somersault of thoughts flip in Akaashi's head at a dizzying force. " _What_?"

When Akaashi takes his hand back from Bokuto once again, the latter leans back against the counter with a fixated stare at the ground. It looks as if he's a child being berated for his actions.

"Kuroo said that the commander has been sending troops out west again to find a new establishment for a new quarantine." Bokuto begins explaining. "And they've found one."

Confusion addles the swimming whirlpool of thoughts in Akaashi's head at the sentence. "When— how did I not know—"

"Kuroo has been on really good terms with one of the generals lately, and that's how _he_ knows." Bokuto sighs before chuckling at a thought. "That general is a woman, and you know how women are with Kuroo."

"Yes, I am well aware..." Akaashi mutters to himself, unsurprised at the sly act that Kuroo is probably pulling in order to obtain information that he isn't supposed to have hands on.

"But apparently, they're going to start restationing soldiers at the new quarantine once it becomes cleared and cleaned up."

"Restationing?" Akaashi echoes as if repeating it will help the comprehension flush further down within him. "Like, leaving Tokyo?"

"Mhm! And Kuroo said that he's gonna work to get us on the list to be restationed."

Quickly getting the message, Akaashi fills in the holes. "So while we're on our way of being restationed, we can diverge from the group?"

"And go off on our own." Bokuto completes, eyes brightening at the lessened denial in Akaashi's tone. "Yeah? Think about it, 'Kaashi!"

"I'm thinking." Akaashi murmurs to himself as he begins pacing towards the window of the living room across the kitchen.

Restationing would relieve lots of pressure off their initial departure as Akaashi currently predicts. Nobody would be questioning them when they pack up rations, supplies, and firearms as everyone being restationed would be doing the same. It would be the perfect guise to their escape, and as they make their way through west, diverging would be far easier to pull off.

Akaashi points another inquiring gaze at Bokuto at this realization. "When is the restationing happening?"

"It's guessed to be around in the fall." Bokuto replies with a heavy shrug. "I'm not sure, and Kuroo isn't either."

"That's alright," Akaashi reassures. More time equals more time for planning. "And what do you predict to be Kuroo's chances of getting us on that list?"

"I dunno," Bokuto squints his eyes with thought and scratches a hand at the side of his fluffy hair. "But pretty damn high, according to him. Like, as high as a high hippie can get."

 _What is Kuroo-san doing, fucking the general?_ Akaashi wonders sharply to himself, only to realize that Kuroo most likely possesses the lack of dignity to go through such an act after his serious romance with the Firefly traitor ended up in shreds. Maybe he just doesn't care anymore.

Nearing footsteps make Akaashi lift his unknowingly lowered gaze back up from the ground, and he sees Bokuto approach with hands sliding down the sides of Akaashi's arms in a warm manner.

"What are you thinking, Akaashi?" Bokuto asks as he peers down at Akaashi's contemplative gaze.

"Of a plan." Akaashi answers, pointed. "A refined one. But I'm not going to get too far into it, in case we're not ending up on that list."

"Kuroo knows what he's doing, he'll be able to get us on there." Bokuto nods with a wide, unrelenting smirk. "He's doing us this favor."

Bokuto lifts Akaashi's chin with a single finger, and a promise blooms between them at that moment, and their noses are fractions away from each other when Bokuto speaks.

"Even if we don't get on that list, or if anything else happens," Bokuto hugs Akaashi's torso and leans down into the latter's space till he can brush his lips against Akaashi's ears. "We'll make it out of here together."

It's like a cascade of warmth that splits through the cracks of an iron shield within Akaashi when he feels Bokuto relax on his shoulders. He strokes his fingers up and down Bokuto's hair, his nails scraping soothingly down his nape time to time. The tense strings of Akaashi's veins have loosened, and it quells any of the doubt that is usually on the tails of his every thought.

It's warm, it's serene. It's the first time he feels himself looking forward to something.

"Yes, we will," Akaashi huffs pleasantly against Bokuto's ear. "Perhaps we can make that a promise."

\--

The smell of blood teases at Akaashi's nose insufferably, and he doesn't recall a time when he could smell his own blood as clearly as now. He feels it dripping down his neck, pooling from a venomous sting that nips at his skin as he continues to adjust his blue bandana around the bite.

The walk to the balcony is one of the longest walks Akaashi has ever gone through. Suga walks beside him, silent with a scream of paralyzing guilt reflecting off of his features and his wordlessness alone. A few glances from him are observed from the very edge of Akaashi's eye, though he feigns ignorance to it as he can't find words that will befit any situation beyond this point in time.

The tears have dried on the raven's cheeks, and he can only hope his eyes aren't red from it when they finally approach the archway to the balcony where the other four are already waiting.

Bokuto, Daichi, Kageyama, Hinata. They all turn in near unison at the approach of Suga and Akaashi.

Multiple voices call for Suga's name in a chorus of relief, but the male doesn't respond even when he feels Daichi take hold of his shoulder. A jump of red-orange hair pops up and down at the corners of Suga's vision, but he can't take his eyes off the ground. Suga's head is monotonous with a dust of thoughts, and he pays no mind to Daichi, Kageyama, and Hinata repetitiously saying his name in an attempt to gather his attention with no respondent avail.

"Akaashi, you're alright! You're here!" Suga hears Bokuto enthuse with the widest smile that can only instill dread at the moment.

"Yes, Bokuto-san..." Akaashi murmurs as he attempts at a smile that only quivers weakly at the edges. Suga observes Akaashi keep a protective hand over the bandana that covers his bite, and dark blue eyes shoot over to the quartet with something on the tip of his tongue.

"Suga, hey, what's the matter?" Daichi shakes gently at Suga's shoulder, making the quicksilver male turn his head to finally match with Daichi's concerned, brown eyes.

An open mouth isn't enough to get the words out of Suga, and he stammers at the back of his throat. "We— he—" he is about to say.

"This is where we will depart from you guys." Akaashi interjects, stealing everyone's attention right away. His eyes are steely and cold, seemingly possessing its normally indifferent nature that only Suga is able to see through.

"Eh? Already, Akaashi?" Bokuto says incredulously, blinking rapidly.

"Bokuto-san said that we just need to get them to this balcony, and that's it. Yes?" Akaashi clarifies dully and quietly, his voice threatening to capsize into a mere mutter.

"Yeah, Akaashi, but you're so quick to dismiss—"

"We don't have time, Bokuto-san," Akaashi lashes briefly with impatience, and the quick flinch Bokuto makes prompts him to reel his tone back in place. Blue eyes refocus onto Suga and Daichi, the stare heavy and hardened with hidden trepidation. "Please go now."

“But— Akaashi..." Suga hitches out through stammering breaths.

"Please, Sugawara-san." Akaashi sighs at the ground, closing his eyes with a slight downward tilt of his lips that Bokuto cannot see from where he is. "We have some business to take care of."

 _Business to take care of_. The words reverberate a buzz across the scapes of Suga's head in a ricocheting manner. Though he stops his thoughts short from elaborating on what the words could mean and lets acquiescence trickle in.

If he can grant Akaashi a final wish, he'll grant him this one.

"You need a little waking up?" Daichi nudges Suga by the elbow with attempted jest creeping onto his aslant grin.

With a dazed look and thought-debauched mind, Suga shakes his head with an unmatched grin. "No, I'm fine."

The grin on Daichi's face falters when he sees Suga's eyes refuse to match with his.

"I'm sorry, Akaashi," Suga says with a lingering look glued to the raven soldier— twisted with a tremulous expression that is akin to something that is on the brink of breaking. "I'm sorry."

A grimace captures beneath the fibers of Akaashi's shoulders, and he slowly inhales as Bokuto engages with Daichi in order to exchange brief thanks and farewells with them. He gives instruction to the brunette of where to head next while he pats Hinata on the head, ruffling through his fiery locks as the smaller male beams with an equal match of enthusiasm as the soldier. Kageyama watches from aside by the railing, idle with that natural scowl of his still laden on his features.

Suga, on the other hand, remains stock-still in front of Akaashi as if his guilt has tethered him in place.

"It's not your fault, Sugawara-san." Akaashi manages to assure through the quaver in his voice when he feels the weight of Suga's gaze begin sinking down his skin.

A small, mirthless smile is all Suga can manage back in response before croaking out, "I can't help but feel guilty when I can't get infected at all."

The bandana beneath Akaashi's anxiously fiddling fingertips sting at the bite— a grim reminder.

"That's not your fault either—"

"Koushi, we should go now." Daichi gently pulls at Suga's shoulder, gaining the male's attention with a stumble back. "Thank you, Akaashi. We wish you safe travels back."

"Not a problem." Akaashi breathes out before backing away from the pair. "Now please go."

Those words finally do it, and Suga peels his eyes away from the soldier as the four-group of survivors begin climbing down the ladder steps. The stare Akaashi gives to the ladder is catatonic as he watches the last head of hair disappear from the balcony, and the dipping colors of the sky make the autumn air sigh a cold breeze against his numb skin.

"Hnnngh—!" Bokuto stretches his arms up high with a roll of cracks popping from his back. "Yeesh! Well that was a task!" He stops short when he rakes his eyes down Akaashi's unusually still form. "Hey, Akaashi, where's your gun?"

An image of the sleek black gun falling from Akaashi's fingertips in the stairwell assaults his mind, inducing a shiver to course through his spine.

"Stairwell." Akaashi replies dimly.

A soft chortle sounds from the sliver of Bokuto's goofy grin. "Akaaaaashiii~, I never took you as the clumsy type." He coos childishly with a smooth slide of his hand traveling down the side of Akaashi's arm in a teasing manner.

Akaashi slowly edges away from Bokuto's hand, and that sends a look of worry to split across the tall soldier's face as he draws his hand away.

"What's wrong?" Bokuto whimpers out, bending his spine ahead to try and meet Akaashi's gaze that is currently busy at the ground. His hand goes to nudge at Akaashi's shoulder again, but he stutters his arm back upon remembering Akaashi's reaction to his touch just moments before. "Akaashi, you've been quiet since you got here..."

"I'm always quiet, Bokuto-san," mutters Akaashi in a droning manner.

"Akaashiii..." Bokuto drawls out with a pout, crossing his arms over his chest. "Quit teasing, and tell me what's wrong..."

Pacing steps carry Akaashi across the metal-floored balcony with the thunking sound of his boots following him there. Clammy palms don't remedy the anxious heat that's building at Akaashi's face, and he isn't quite sure if it's just the anxiety alone that's heating him up.

"Maybe, you can just tell me on the ride back." Bokuto suggests upon having simmered in Akaashi's hanging silence for a second too long. "It's not a short drive, so—"

"No. No, we can't." Akaashi shakes his head with acute refusal, his hand raking through the sides of his messy black hair.

Golden eyes narrow at Akaashi confusedly. "Why?"

"Because—" tears have started piling at the brims of the raven's twitching eyes, his nose even scrunching into something so distinctly uncomfortable, "because we can't— _I_ can't—"

"Akaashi, oh my god, Akaashi, what's the matter?" Bokuto inquires with a soft silkiness present in his voice. In two quick strides, he's in Akaashi's space with hands cupped at the latter's cheeks, his eyes searching through Akaashi's blue ones. "Akaashi, please tell me what's wrong.." Bokuto winces.

"I— can't leave Tokyo tomorrow," Akaashi chokes out as he stubbornly keeps his sobs shoved down the tunnel of his chest despite tears silently dewing his cheeks. His sleight hands go to shakily join at Bokuto's rough ones that are at the sides of his face. "I can't leave Tokyo tomorrow, Bokuto-san."

A heart-tugging feeling of confusion knits Bokuto's brows together. "Wh- What— Why? What do you mean?" He sputters, confusion blooming into anxiety in a slow metamorphosis. "We've been planning for months, Akaashi, what do you mean we can't go?"

" _I_ can't go." Akaashi rectifies with the crack in his voice allowing the wet swallow of a sob to seep through his words just slightly. "I can't go, because— I'm bitten.”

Akaashi feels the tension locking in Bokuto's hands against his cheeks, and the expression the taller soldier wears is immediately of disbelief as told by his eyes that dart up and down Akaashi. His gaze stops at the blue bandana around Akaashi's neck, the bandana that he wasn't wearing before.

Bokuto hitches a breath with a quivering lip at the sight of the blue fabric. "Is that—"

Terror begins to waterfall down Bokuto's head, leaving all his thoughts awash in a sea of leadened comprehension. He shivers with a look of tense despair that begins to slowly creep up his features.

"You don't have to see it." Akaashi pushes away Bokuto's nearing hand that the latter hadn't even realized was advancing towards the bandana. "I— I don't want you to—" he clutches the bandana in place with guard before his other hand shoots up to rub at his narrowing eyes, "— _God_ , I'm so _stupid_ , I lost my mind and I messed up, Bokuto-san, I messed up our plan and I— this wasn't supposed to happen..."

The sight of Akaashi slowly unraveling into threads of himself makes Bokuto begin quaking. His breaths quicken and shudder, his eyes search for a way to match with Akaashi's tear-drenched eyes, and his hands clutch at Akaashi's arms with a finger-throbbing grip. Those tender lips of Akaashi's, the ones Bokuto would always enjoy kissing and nipping at, are now dipped into a curling frown as they hold back any sob that has still yet to escape.

"Wh-What, what are we supposed to do?" Bokuto quivers out hopelessly, his eyes burning holes through the blue bandana around Akaashi's neck.

 _We_. The word we hurts like pin-pricking needles that are the size of stakes as they shoot through the raven's ribs like magnum bullets. Akaashi stifles in another deep inhale as he grips onto Bokuto's shoulders for his attention. Tremors disturb the firmness of his grasp, but the desperate sink of his fingernails into Bokuto's uniform does enough to let Akaashi know that he's holding on.

" _You_ , Bokuto-san, are going to go back to Tokyo, and still carry out the plan with Kuroo-san."

Absolute dislike, _contempt_ , is expressed in Bokuto's furrowed features at that idea. He shakes his head side to side with adamant disagreement to deny the cruel reality of the command.

"No, no, but what about you, Akaashi?" Bokuto whimpers with moistening eyes as he refuses to let his fingers ease at Akaashi's arms, probably even starting to bruise marks onto the raven's skin through the uniform.

Reaching behind his back, Akaashi's tremulous fingers grip tenuously at the sleek item slung to his holster as Bokuto follows the action with adrenaline-shot eyes. Akaashi takes Bokuto's right wrist with his other hand, peeling its bruising grip off his arm, and plants the item from his other hand into Bokuto's open palm.

A fully loaded, black 9mm glock.

A staggering gasp passes between Akaashi's lips as he breathes, "I don't think I can do it myself."

"Take it back," orders Bokuto with a cracked hitch in his voice. "Take it back, Akaashi, _take it back_ —"

The gun that Bokuto urges Akaashi's way is of no use when the raven soldier squeezes Bokuto's hand around the gun, not allowing a return to be made.

"Maybe you're immune too? We can't know for sure—" Bokuto pleads as his other hand still remains gripped at Akaashi's arm, pulling like a begging child as Akaashi merely sways at each tug with no relenting response. "I— I haven't even seen the bite, so..."

"The bite is there, _trust me_ , Bokuto-san," nods Akaashi, his voice not even sounding the same as before. It sounds sodden with dread. "And I'm not Sugawara-san. I'm not immune, and I know because I can feel it getting worse by the minute." His lips squeeze together before the bottom one being bitten. "So please. Don't set up another false hope."

Before Bokuto can even utter another word of refusal, he is tugged forward so his forehead is met with Akaashi's in a dull thunk. The raven's breaths are hot, scorching even against the heat of adrenaline-pumped skin of Bokuto. Bokuto feels the same slender fingers he has held during so many evenings before, begin squeezing comfortingly at his nape in a soothing manner. The urge to kiss Akaashi with his mouth right there is blocked by the thickening need to hear what the younger soldier has to say.

They stand there for a few seconds, sharing air as a intertwining vice begins squeezing at the deepest roots of Bokuto's heart, sucking its vitality dry to leave him feeling fruitless of any hope. A spin begins spiraling down the drains of his thoughts as he tries to process the situation, making his head hot with thought and sour with disbelief. Any ropes of optimism that Bokuto usually grabs onto inside himself during times of distress has been cut into ungraspable strings, and he feels himself falling.

"I know this is hard, and I know this hit us like a bus." Akaashi says with a stark tone that sounds like it's forcing its way out of his throat in order for the words to be articulate. "But the plan, Bokuto-san, the plan is a sterling chance that not a lot of people get. And Kuroo-san gave that to us—"

"Yeah, by sleeping with the general—"

"Shhh, shhh, that's beside the point." Akaashi chastises with the glimpse of a grin that he can't help but let slip.

The slight amused chuckle Bokuto emits only makes the bog of dread in his gut to stir sluggishly and painfully.

"Kuroo-san will be waiting, and he will carry out the plan with you. Only I won't be there to join you guys." Akaashi tells Bokuto, and the latter lets out the first drip of a sob at those words. An identical whimper sounds from Akaashi's mouth as he says, "It's just the way it's gotta be. Whether you choose to help me or not, _I'm going to die_."

"No, you're not..." Bokuto winces.

Akaashi urges the gun back at Bokuto and even detaches his forehead from him, leaving his skin cold with abandonment. "I don't want to turn up like Kenma did. I don't want to wander— meaninglessly— mindlessly— I... So please," he pulls himself away from Bokuto's grip and takes multiple steps back from the soldier, "Please? I don't think— I don't think I can do it myself cause—"

 _I'm scared_. Akaashi echoes into his mind wordlessly. He knows he doesn't have the courage to die by his own hands, and his cowardice manifests side-by-side with core-splitting guilt at making Bokuto commit such an act. Selfish, as Akaashi finds himself, and a coward. And he supposes that he will die as such: swallowed by his own insecurities.

"We were supposed to..." Bokuto trembles down at the glock in his hands, eyes dragging all around the firearm brokenly as if he's admiring something that once was. "We were supposed to find an ocean together."

Nails dig into Akaashi's palms, marking them red and bleeding.

"Yes, I know." Akaashi shudders out, feeling like his feet are sinking through the balcony like a melting pit of fire. His bones feel like ashes, having already been charred away by the raging flames of fear.

"And... And we were supposed to..." Bokuto straightens up to reveal the clear lines running down his cheeks as he looks dead over at Akaashi. "We said that we would wake up next to each other, see a blue day at the shore, light candles everywhere—"

"Stop, please stop," Akaashi begs as the painfully tantalizing glimpse of what could have been serrates achingly through the thin flesh of himself. " _Stop_."

"I don't wanna, I don't wanna stop. Not now, it was too soon—"

"Bokuto-san—"

"Akaashi," Bokuto interrupts deliberately, and the raven can't help but stop and listen. "Can you promise me something?"

Sighing, Akaashi feels the air thicken in his chest. "Yes, anything..."

"Can you think happy thoughts for me?" Bokuto manages a genuine but lopsided smile. Goofy, but so distraught despite still emanating a cheery glow like the last hours of a melting candle. "So that... when I do it—" he raises the glock in his hands in reference, "I can feel better about having done it?"

The first sob finally breaks through Akaashi's mouth, the sound foreign as he never really let himself cry this loudly to himself. Even in solitude he held his breath during hurricanes of mental breakdowns. But he lets it be, knowing he has nothing else to lose.

"Of course," he nods. "Then please promise me this."

Anticipatory tension crunches at Bokuto's figure and even his breath.

"Yeah— okay, what is it?" Bokuto struggles out.

"Promise me," Akaashi begins slowly to ensure that Bokuto is deciphering the solemnity of what he's about to say. "Promise me that you will go back to Tokyo and carry out the plan with Kuroo-san."

Silence from Bokuto, something that is uncharacteristic of him. Akaashi can see the wheels spinning in Bokuto's head through his eyes, the golden-yellow color dilating with thought as if he is talking to himself in his head. And he does, making up his mind of something unknown.

"Okay..." Bokuto mouses out. "I promise."

He says with fingers crossed discreetly beside him.

Comfort in that thought blooms warmly in Akaashi's conscience, even spilling through the relaxation of his features.

"Thank you," Akaashi sighs out, daresay, with muted content before flitting his eyes closed.

That's a blaring signal to Bokuto that Akaashi is ready. It's unspoken but obvious from how still and silent Akaashi has become, with the blue of his eyes now masked away. It's nothing but a waiting game for Akaashi now. All he sees are the darkness of his closed eyes, but the screen of his mind projects thoughts— happy thoughts— just as he had promised.

Perhaps it's the adrenaline working, or the state of reality for Akaashi right now, but his thoughts are as vivid as memories— even though they are nothing but imagination.

He sees the sea colored in pale, innocent blue from the water, and from the sky that is as clear as the trail of clouds can allow. Sand sinks his feet beneath a plush of grainy rocks, and the smell— the smell is fresh with a hint of salt just as the books describe it. When people describe certain smells they tend to say ' _it smells like the ocean'_ as if someone like Akaashi, who has ever left Tokyo quarantine his entire life, is supposed to know.

A breathy chuckle escapes audibly through Akaashi's nose at the thought, his eyes still closed. It makes Bokuto's arm tremble even more as he slowly drags the gun up in his hand, aiming it at Akaashi's head but never firing— hesitation is pulling his finger away from the trigger.

Akaashi walks in the set of his imagination, walks across the shore as beautifully foaming tides slide past his ankles, enveloping them in a refreshing cold. He doesn't hear the waves, however, as Akaashi could never even think up a way on how the waves sounded. The scene he walks through is soundless, like the silent films that the orphanage would play from the military's generator in the garage.

The breeze blows past the water, spraying droplets of it on Akaashi's cheek as he laughs, and not just in his imagination, but out loud as well— a soft jingle that is akin to velvet if a sound were to be able to be felt. Bokuto soaks in the sound with desperate absorption and watches the way the smile on the other's face curves through the tears traveling down his cheeks.

As the water now overtakes Akaashi's knees, wetting his trousers into a darkened color, he feels arms take his waist from behind into a warm hug. Strong, familiar, relieving. For a sterling moment, all fear and doubt evaporate into the serenity of the sea that stretches infinitely ahead of Akaashi, and he smiles.

"I'll see you on the other side, Akaashi," Bokuto says in both Akaashi's imagination of them by the sea, and aloud as his finger settles on the trigger with a dreadful shiver.

"I'll be waiting," Akaashi mumbles back enough for Bokuto hear.

Yet he's ignorant to how short that wait will be.

Turning his head aside, Bokuto covers his face with his left hand where tears soak onto his palm. His right hand seizes a moment of stillness and fires before it can be whisked away.

_Clack!_

A loud, shivering gasp shoots through Bokuto's lips and into his hand when he hears a heavy slump sound after the bullet. He still holds the gun in place, paralyzation having locked his movements in place.

"Akaashi?" Bokuto calls futilely as if it was all supposed to be some dream.

 _'I'm here, Bokuto-san'_ is what he expects to hear immediately after, but there is nothing. It's soundless, with nothing but the wind whistling innocently in the air.

Slowly with a metaphorical burn at his fingertips, the soldier draws his hand away from his face and turns his head to look at the corpse that now lays limp on the ground.

"Oh, _god_ —" cries Bokuto as the gears of his body push him to topple onto the ground beside Akaashi, gathering his deadweight up in his arms. The raven feels heavy with death, his arms unmoving with a trickle of blood streaming down the middle of his face from a bullet wound that is masked by his black curls.

Nothing but strangled sobs are heard from Bokuto as he hunches over the solider in his arms, cradling him while he brushes his lips across his cheek to feel a lingering warmth on the skin there. Fresh death, as his comrades would call it, whereas a new corpse still retains the heat of its blood that will slowly stop pumping in a few hours.

Bokuto stares down at Akaashi's half-lidded eyes where a sliver of soulless blue peeks out from beneath. "You— Akaashi—" he speaks through broken sobs as he takes Akaashi's lifeless hand in his own and holds it against his chest, "—deserved a lot more than you— got."

He coughs and hiccups from the stifling tears as he strokes his thumb across a rough patch of skin on Akaashi's hand. The knuckles are worn and bony when Bokuto kisses them to his lips. He keeps squeezing and squeezing at the hand, an action that he always did whenever silence was all Akaashi ever needed at any given moment, and then he would be returned with the same tender squeeze.

But in spite of how much Bokuto squeezes now, the hand never squeezes back.

"You know— Akaashi—" Bokuto rasps out, throat rugged from cries, and his cheeks dewed from tears. "I made you a— a promise before this one—"

The airways in Bokuto's chest have grown taut as he now has to wheeze out every syllable from the very bottom of his lungs like he's pulling on an anchor.

"That we'll make it out of here together. Remember? Last June?" He speaks to nobody who is able to hear, but the still life-colored face of Akaashi's merely makes it appear as if he is asleep with his closed eyes that are free of any tension. "So... please don't be mad... I crossed my fingers, and—”

Fondling Akaashi's soft hand, a small chuckle escapes wryly from Bokuto. "You know, your hand is still warm— like— it's like as if you're... still alive."

Maybe Akaashi would have chuckled too, even thrown back a witty remark with the driest delivery ever— but Bokuto wouldn't have wanted it in any other way. He can feel every palpable thought freeze on its trail, pausing him in time as he brushes his fingers across raven hair.

Grief impedes on Bokuto's grasp at reality, but he knows he won't feel it for long.

Sucking in a breath, Bokuto takes the discarded glock from the ground beside him. He places it in Akaashi's hand— the warm one— and meanders the raven's fingers around the gun and squeezes it in place with his own.

"I— I don't think I can do it myself either, Akaashi." Bokuto confesses guiltily as he guides the gun in Akaashi's hand to point to his own forehead, even feeling the muzzle press up against his scorching hot skin. "So maybe if I do this..."

 _Click_! He cocks the hammer.

"Maybe if I do this— I'll be okay with it." He sighs with a breath that is finally even. The death sentence he has placed on his forehead— the gun cocked and ready to fire at his head— is the first feeling of peace he can grasp for now.

He places Akaashi's finger over the trigger with his own laid over it as guidance. His wrist shakes, a human reaction whenever one is right on death's doorstep.

"We said we'll make it out together..." Bokuto shudders, stillness draping calmly over his internally trembling self. When he squeezes his eyes shut, the darkness he sees is a precursor of what's to come. "We'll make it out together... we'll make it out together..."

The evening wind is undisturbed by the tragedy unfurling between the soldiers, and it pays no mind to them until the trigger fires—

_Clack!_

for the whistling wind to stop, and to be filled with the echo of a bullet that brings epilogue to two soldiers lying in a shared puddle of red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Old Eden - Honeywater](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D62aZVzUpGI)  
> Yeah, this update took forever to post. Took a break from writing because I didn’t want to make it feel like work otherwise the joy of it would be sapped away from me.
> 
> By the way, I start school next week, so updates will be even more delayed... yikes. It’ll all be online, but still, I doubt the work load will still all be the same. I’ll be studying for something that’s taking place in October and I want a head start for it the moment it becomes September, so— fdhwuidhfai. I have too many hobbies and projects I juggle in my young life so please bear with me.


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